


And the Sun Still Shines

by Agua



Series: River of Time [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: (his real name's Beavertail though), Amberspots (OC), Angst, Beavertail and Mushroomtail are the same person, Coming of Age, Family feuds (that get solved), Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LGBTQ Characters, Some Fluff, also dementia / delusional thoughts, being gay is part of the warrior code, buncha OCs - Freeform, cats are awesome, i dont hate the warriors world im just trying to see it from another angle, identity crisis, its mostly a metaphor, lots and lots of depression, mentions of sex / cats mating, so much distress, social commentary i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17361824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agua/pseuds/Agua
Summary: It was easy living in ThunderClan.  Amberspot had been an eager apprentice and a respected warrior; as she sets paw in the elder's den, she expects to meet her new duties with the same passion she had felt all her life, yet she does not. Instead, she is met with the growing concern that her life is coming to an end, and as the days go by ever so slowly, she realizes how truly little time she has.





	1. Cold Earth and Freezing Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amberspots is having a trip down memory-lane during the mundane walk to the medicine cat's den.

The cold, matted earth grew stiffer everyday under Amberspots’s paws. She could feel it freeze ever so slowly as leaf-fall came to an end, making her paws ache and her heart long for the warmth of greenleaf. The clearing offered little protection against the cold. She found herself wincing with every paw step, and, as she tiptoed across the merciless ground, she wished the fresh-kill pile were closer to her den than it was. Having to walk on icy ground was getting harder everyday, and she found herself wishing more and more for the agile body that she once had. She used to be able to dash through the camp, be it rainy or cold. Now, her legs could only drag themselves weakly under her snow-soaked fur, and her paws were hanging feebly, frozen by the cold.

She stopped to lick them, and behind the aroma of frozen mud, she was surprised to find blood. Cracks oozing with red showed her just how much she neglected to use them. «I’m getting old.» With a start, she remembered how she used to run full-pelt across the clearing as a kit, chasing her brother in a game of Rabbit, or exploring the various dens until her heart was full - or until her mother would call her back. She could almost remember the familiar sight of her black-and-white pelt, as Breezetail would stand in the entrance of the nursery, yowling to her kits to come back, gazing at them warmly as they would rush to her happily. Amberspots remembered how Ravenwhisker and her would tell her all about their day, resting against her soft belly, nuzzling for warmth. She remembered how this was her favorite moment of the day - when she would rest safely in her mother’s milky sent, slowly falling asleep under her comforting purrs, her pelt still fluffed-up by the wind, her legs strong and agile, her eyes bright and happy. After a day of running around, the low glow of sunset between the nursery’s walls was always a sight for sore eyes. She always did love the nursery, but not as much as she adored the open air. She used to be a bundle of energy. Her mother would call her Rabbitkit sometimes, after she had been particularly agitated. «Look at me now», she thought miserably. «I’m slower than a half-dead mouse!»

Amberspots shook her head to escape her thoughts, yet the sadness clung to her like a tick. It must be the cold weather making her cranky, she guessed with a sigh. Like an icy claw, sorrow scraped at her heart, making her feel dizzy. She’d need some poppy seeds for that. She needed not another sleepless night - not with this weather. With one last regretful look at the fresh-kill pile, she turned around and set a course for Ravenwhisker’s den.

As she padded across the clearing, she looked around, trying to distract herself from her thought and burning pads. Immediately her gaze was dragged to a pair of apprentices chattering under a bush, their eyes full of laughter. They were huddled together, furs yellow against orange, sharing tongues under the red light of sunhigh, their eyes bright, their voices purring. Amberspots felt the chill in her heart thaw as she paused for a brief moment, lost in memories of her own apprenticeship. She remembered how she had darted to the leader without thinking about protocol, before Coldstar had stopped her with a flick of her tail, an amused purr in her throat. She had been embarrassed, but as soon as she had seen her mother’s encouraging gaze, she had let her fur rest on her shoulders, and by the time her mentor had stepped out from the crowd she was ready. She had walked to him with confidence. Her brother had been more calm, but his amber eyes had betrayed the same excitement as her own, and they had shared a proud look as ThunderClan had shouted their names into the sky. Becoming an apprentice had been her greatest achievement back then, so many moons ago, and sometimes she could not believe she had once been as young as she had been.

When she looked at the two apprentices again, she felt in them the same innocence that she once had, and was amused to realize that they, too, were talking about their training, and gossiping about their mentors and duties, as she had back then. She remembered feeling like the world was an adventure, and having dreams of fights and hunting parties, of becoming a warrior like her Clanmates before her. Back when her whole life was laid out before her, back when it made sense to hunt and fight borders. 

Feeling an emotion she could not explain, Amberspots gave her chest a few licks and turned her attention away. The taste of snow on her pelt refreshed her thoughts, and she found herself breathing more calmly. In a calm pace, she crossed the few tail-lengths left between herself and the medicine cat’s den and, pushing through the few strands of grass left, let herself in.

With a relieved sigh, she sat on the warm ground, letting the heavy scents of herbs reach her nose. She was happy to note that she still remembered some of their names. Back when they were in training, Ravenwhisker often asked her to test him in his knowledge of poultrices and remedies. Amberspots could still see his huge orange eyes glowing with stress as he listed what he knew. «He used to be so nervous», she remembered with a purr. «He was so scared of failing his mentor. But look at him now!» Her brother emerged from the depths of the den with a branch in his jaws, concentrated as ever. There was no insecurity in his gaze as he expertly made a poultrice, and his mew showed no signs of doubt as he gave it to his patient. Amberspots gave a little purr, as she looked from where she patiently waited, at the cat her brother had become. He had grown - they both had grown a lot. «Not grown», she thought with a grimace, «decayed.» She stared apathetically at her ragged pelt, where scars had left pink spots in between the ginger-and-gold splotches that spotted her pelt, leaving bald spots and markings all over her frail body. «StarClan won’t wait long before they take me in their ranks.»

As her thoughts sucked her in, Amberspots was aware of nothing else but her own heartbeat, and as her pelt burned with unease, she found herself unable to let go of them. It was only when Ravenwhisker let out a purr of delight that she came back to her senses. Snapping her head upward, she saw her brother coming toward her, purring happily. He seemed as energetic as ever - almost as if he had switched personalities with his sister. 

“Amberspots! he exclaimed. It’s so good to see you! Do you need more poppy seeds?  
-Has StarClan warned you of my visit? Amberspots asked with a purr.  
-I don’t need omens to know that you sleep badly, he joked. Last night, I heard you muttering all the way to my nest!”

Amberspots gave him a playful cuff around the ear. Purring, Ravenwhisker slammed it with a paw, and for a moment it seemed they were both kittens playing warriors together. «We were so young back then… It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed. Sometimes it feels as if it were only yesterday that we were playing Rabbit by the Highrock, waiting for Mother to call us for a meal…» She had fond memories of those times, but soon enough her somber mood had returned.

Her brother’s mew roused her from her thoughts. “What happened? Your pads are cracked!”

With a quick flick of his tail, he motioned to her to sit down, and without further comment disappeared into his den to fetch the right leaves. Grateful for his silence, the ginger she-cat took place on the soft earth, blinking slowly so her eyes would adjust to the dim lightning of the den. She could barely make out her brother’s silhouette between the rows of herbs and berries, even with the sun shining with all the strenght of sunhigh. «My vision’s not as it used to be», Amberspots thought to herself. Then she realized that she sounded like an elder. This thought occupied her for a few moments, and like a kit staring at the full moon, she felt her eyes grow wide with understanding, but before she could delve into it, she heard her brother’s paw steps coming back to her, his jaws full. Coltsfoot leaves for sore pads, she remembered reflexively.

“There,” Ravenwhisker announced, dropping his bundle at her feet. “You’ll have enough to last until newleaf,” he joked lightly, pushing the poppy seeds towards her. As she stared numbly at him, his eyes became more serious, and he asked quietly, before taking a leaf and chewing it: “Is there something bothering you? You’re awfully quiet.”

Amberspots gave a half-hearted laugh, and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her expression while he was preparing her treatment.

“It’s nothing special,” she assured him. “Just the weather nagging on these old bones. You know me.”

She tried to joke, but her words seemed unconvincing even to herself. By the look her brother gave her, she could see he wasn’t convinced either, but neither cats spoke as he treated her sore paws. Amberspots let out a sigh of relief as the herbs began to take effect, the pain giving way to a dull ache. She flexed her toes, both to test the feelings in them, and to escape further questioning.

But her brother would not be fooled so easily. His eyes were full of concern, and as soon as she met his worried gaze, she knew she could not escape the conversation any longer.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling tired these past few moons”, Amberspots admitted. “Hunting is hard, and my joints are getting so stiff I can’t go on patrol anymore.”  
“I can give you some comfrey root, to ease the stiffness,” Ravenwhisker proposed.

Amberspots shrugged, grateful for her brother’s kindness, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. “I don’t know… I feel like I’m simply too old to keep up with it anymore. At first, I thought it was because -”

Her voice cut off, and her throat choked back her words with a painful squeeze. Suddenly she couldn’t speak anymore, but her brother understood, and gave her a comforting nudge, his amber eyes sympathetic. Grateful for his support, she managed to find her breath, then, with a sigh, she announced:

“I think it’s time I joined the elder’s den.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfiction! I still haven't gotten the hang of formating, but that's alright. It's still readable. I hope you like it!
> 
> Also, this takes time before the first series, in an unspecified time. I haven't included any spoilers, so if you have only read the first series, you should be good to go.
> 
> Another thing! English is not my first language, and this is very much a first draft that I'm posting anyways. I hope this story is readable! Enjoy!!
> 
> Edit: I changed "Highrock" to "Tallrock".
> 
> Re-edit: I changed "Tallrock" to "Highrock" again. Hopefully this is the last time. Sigh.


	2. Warm Rabbits and Ginger Pelts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amberspots has a visit from Tigerpaw, who has some good news.

Amberspots stared at her paws, not daring to look at his eyes. What if he told her she wasn’t so old? What if he told her she was old? She did not know which answer would worry her the most, and the silence didn’t help her think. She opened her jaws, but before she had time to think of something to add, she felt a comforting lick on her shoulder. She looked up and met her brother’s relieved eyes.

“I’m glad you’re retiring,” he admitted, and as she stared at him in confusion, he explained: “I was worried you were exhausting yourself, but now you won’t anymore. These are good news!”

She bit back her answer. Seeing the joy in her brother’s face was too good a moment to spoil. Instead, she forced herself to purr.

“I’ll have you know that this cat is not going to stop hunting!” she joked, flicking her tail on his muzzle. “I’ve still got some warrior spirit left in me!”

Ravenwhisker purred, seemingly content with her response, then got to his paws. Behind the low roof of the den, the sun shone red with all the warmth of sunhigh. He stretched lazily, his toes almost reaching the wall, then turned to his sister, his eyes relaxed. He looked every bit as bright as when he had been given his medicine cat name, the faint echoes of his mentor’s praise still visible in his irises. They were the same age - yet she felt so drastically different. He looked at ease, peaceful, content… and she was bitter and unsatisfied. Yet they both had led fulfilling lives, both following the warrior code in different ways, both finding new things to be happy about every day. So why could she not be happy with the life she had? Why could she not sit back and enjoy it? «Was following the warrior code so unsatisfying to me?» she snarled to herself. 

“Have you eaten?” the medicine cat asked her, startling her. “I can get you something to eat while I go tell Coldstar the good news.”  
“That would be great. Thank you,” Amberspots let out gratefully. «That’s it», she added to herself, trying to convince herself. «I’m just hungry.»

Ravenwhisker gave her a last lick on the shoulder, then padded out of his den into the bright clearing. She watched him walk under the bright sun to Coldstar’s den for a while, then turned her attention away. As she distractedly made a bundle for the poppy seeds to be carried in, she couldn’t help but feel bad about her decision. Did it mean she was rejecting the life of a warrior? She felt doubts creeping into her pelt like ants, biting at her skin, making her fur burn with shame. «What would Breezetail say?» she wondered, resting her muzzle onto her paws. «Would she be upset that I’m giving up so soon?» Amberspots sighed, feeling the weight of a thousand squirrels on her chest, and pushed the poppy seeds away, before resting her face on her paws.

Suddenly, the sound of fur scratching at the entrance reached her ears, and she looked up to see the ginger apprentice she had seen before bursting into the den, her blue eyes wild. Her striped fur was fluffed-up, and she was teary-eyed from the cold, but by the way she padded excitedly in one place, Amberspots could tell she had received some good news.

“Hello, Amberspots,” she called distractedly, her voice squeaky. “Have you seen Ravenshisker?”  
“He just left,” she answered. “Now, now, Tigerpaw, why don’t you tell an old she-cat the good news?”

The tabby almost broke her bones by sitting down in one go. Without breaking a sweat, she began cleaning her chest fur with frenetic licks. Seeing her so excited made the old she-cat purr. Young cats are always so energetic, Amberspots reminisced. I was like this once, too. I wish I still were… Tigerpaw was purring nonstop, and it was only after she had finished cleaning her pelt that she turned to Amberspots to fix her bright, blue gaze on her.

“Mousefoot is going to ask Coldstar to make me a warrior!” she squealed, almost shouting the last words. “I hope she says yes!!!” Without waiting for congratulations, she went on: “I hope they make me a warrior! Oh, what do you think my name is going to be? Perhaps it’s Tigerleaf, or Tigerfoot, or - oh, I hope it’s Tigerheart!!”

Tigerpaw purred loudly, barely able to contain her glee. Amberspots looked at her fondly. The small tabby reminded her of herself when she was young. She had been terrified of failing her final assessment - so terrified that she had entirely given up on ever being a warrior by the time her ceremony had started. She remembered sitting sadly in the ranks of her Clanmates, not understanding why her brother was signaling her with his tail, his eyes round with panic. Then she had understood and had joined him just as Coldstar had arrived. She remembered her vigil - alone in the cold hollow, listening to owls, her pelt covered in frost, but her body warm with the memory of loud cheers of “Amberspots” below Highrock. She had loved to finally become a warrior, to feel like her training - her life - had paid off.

“My very own warrior name! Can you believe it? I’ll finally be able to join the warriors in their den! Oh, do you think Mushroomtail is going to sleep next to me? He’s so dreamy, I think he likes me - I hope he likes me! Do you think he’ll like my warrior name? Do you think he’ll be happy I’m a warrior? I have to look my best for him… Oh, StarClan, how do I look?”

She gave herself a few more licks, her gaze now worried. Amberspots gave her a reassuring lick on the ear.

“You look perfect,” she comforted her. “I’m very proud of you, and I’m sure everyone will be, too.”

Tigerpaw gave a proud purr, and as Amberspots started grooming the few spots that she had missed, the young she-cat settled more comfortably on the warm earth, her pelt glistening in the bright sunlight. Neither cats said anything for a moment, both lost in thoughts until Amberspots was finished.

“A warrior!” Amberspots echoed. “I remember when you were made an apprentice. You were small, back then, and so full of energy that your poor mother couldn’t catch her breath!” Amberspots purred at the memory. She went on: “Some cats said to call you Squirrelpaw, but I said, mind you, “She’ll be a fine warrior one day, this one”, and I reckon I was right.” She looked at Tigerpaw with pride. “Look at yourself! You’ve grown a lot. I’m sure you’ll make a very fine warrior, little ‘paw. And one day, perhaps, a queen. But you won’t forget about old Amberspots here, now, won’t you?”

Tigerpaw beamed, purring like a thousand monsters, and gave an affectionate lick to her friend’s ear. As she was opening her mouth, the fronds at the entrance bristled, giving way to Ravenwhisker, who was carrying a huge rabbit in his jaws. He dropped it at his sister’s feet, orange eyes glistening, and gave her a nod. «Coldstar said yes», Amberspots understood, and she nodded back, feeling her somber mood return.

“Tigerpaw!” the medicine cat exclaimed. “I spoke with your mentor earlier. Congratulations on your assessment!”

Tigerpaw purred happily. Seeing the young cat so joyful cheered Amberspots a little, and she felt the pressure in her chest loosen up. As she settled more comfortably, she felt herself return to her senses, and she was able to enjoy the soft smell of the gray rabbit Ravenwhisker has brought back. She was almost drooling. They rarely caught rabbits, she thought with an impressed hum. The hunter who had caught it must be a talented one.

The medicine cat seemed to follow her thoughts and added, “Impressive catch, is it not? Young Bluepaw caught it. She’s a fine hunter, this one.”

At the mention of her sister, Tigerpaw tensed up, but she still was able to give a polite blink. They rarely got along, Amberspots thought sadly. She thought of her own bond with Raventail, and remembered their many memories together. Hopefully, she and Bluepaw would one day be good friends. «It would be a shame for them to live their whole lives like this», Amberspots thought sadly. This thought sent her mind to another, darker one: the thought that one day, they would be separated. One alive, the other in StarClan.

She suddenly felt nauseous, and the rabbit seemed to become crow-food to her nose. She couldn’t help but recoil, repulsed by the once-appetizing smell of her meal, all thoughts of eating vanishing entirely. She pushed the rabbit with her paw, trying to find a softer part to eat, but every ounce of it seemed disgustingly inedible. She shot a quick glance at the medicine cat, who seemed just as overwhelmed by the food, but for different reasons. Amberspots briefly closed her eyes, ashamed and confused. «What’s wrong with me?» She felt her pelt grow hot. «Why aren’t I hungry?» 

“Would you like to share, Tigerpaw? There seems to be too much rabbit to eat, and not enough of the two of us,” Ravenwhisker offered.

Tigerpaw’s eyes lightened up, and, with a hungry gaze at the rabbit, nodded enthusiastically. She took a huge bite out of the rabbit, and chewed, relishing the soft meat. Amberspots could imagine the grassy flavor of the undergrowth exploding on her tongue, mixed with the rich taste of meat. Usually, it would have made her drool, but today, she simply felt underwhelmed by the perspective of a good meal. She watched silently as Tigerpaw had a few more bites, then pushed the rabbit to Amberspots. The old queen stared blankly at the fresh-kill, before forcing herself to take a mouthful. She chewed, waiting for the flavor to come, but it did not. Instead, she was left to chew on bland meat. Feeling a knot form in her stomach, she swallowed, and, with a conscious effort, managed to take another bite. Feeling her stomach protest as she swallowed slowly, she didn’t take another one, and gave the rabbit back to Ravenwhisker, who was waiting, licking his lips expectantly. As soon as the rabbit was in front of him, he bent down and devoured it. There was barely anything left of it when he finished it and sat down, purring, with a look of content on his features.

“You’re hungry,” Tigerpaw commented with a purr.  
“It takes a lot of fresh-kill to keep these old bones up and running,” he joked, purring with satisfaction as a ray of sunshine reached his belly.  
“You’re not that old,” she protested, her blue eyes indignant.

Amberspots snorted, amused at the apprentice’s defense. Like every younger cat, she was repulsed by the idea of growing old. «I don’t miss that», she thought. «It feels so much better now that I'm already there.»

“You’re still young,” Amberspots murmured with a wistful look at the sky. “When you reach a certain age, you’ll see that growing old is nothing to be scared of. It happens to every single one of us, little one. To you, too,” she added with a fond purr.  
“I’m not old,” she muttered, with a hint of anticipation. “Not yet, anyway.”  
“When it happens, you’ll see that there is nothing to be afraid of,” Amberspots assured her.

Tigerpaw shot her an uncertain look, then got to her paws and stretched. As she flexed her toes, she let out a squeal, and quickly retracted her foot to her chest.

“Right,” she hissed, annoyed. “I forgot about this.”  
“You have a torn claw,” Ravenwhisker fretted, getting up to his paws to give it a sniff. “It looks painful. Wait here,” he ordered.  
“It’s no big deal,” she called after the medicine cat, but he was already disappearing in the shadows. “It doesn’t even hurt,” she muttered with a pout.

Amberspots stifled a purr at the sight of the young cat’s sulking gaze.

“It’s true!” Tigerpaw meowed indignantly. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if Fernpaw hadn’t told me to go see Ravenwhisker. There’s no need for all this fuss, really...”

Amberspots gave her a soothing lick on the ear. The proud words of the young cat brought back memories of a night of battle, many moons ago, when she had uttered the same words as Tigerpaw. She gave an amused twitch of her whiskers. She really had changed a lot since her warrior days.

The old she-cat shook her head, purring softly.

"Now, now, young Tigerpaw, there's nothing wrong with a little fixing-up!"  
"But I'm fine!" Tigerpaw exclaimed with a flick of her tail. "I'm almost a warrior, I don't need this! What's RiverClan going to think if I run off at the first scratch? I can't let them think we're cowards!" she protested, her eyes glinting with passion.

Amberspots purred. “I remember when I was your age. I was proud, too. At my first battle, I had the strength of ten warriors inside of me. These RiverClan furballs were nothing fearsome, I told myself, and so I leaped at the biggest of them. Stoneclaw was his name. He was about two times my size, and three times the power.” She shook her head, remembering how foolish she had been. “As soon as I jumped at him, he gave me a terrible bite to the shoulder. My paw went limp. I could barely feel anything at all with it.”

Tigerpaw gasped, her attention so focused on her friend that she didn’t realize that Ravenwhisker was back. Amberspots went on, pushing her bundle of poppy seeds to her side so she could lay down more comfortably. She noticed that her brother was listening, too.

“I think he expected me to run off with my tail between my legs, but it made me only more determined to win. I jumped back at him and managed to scratch his flank, but he shook me off easily. He didn’t look hurt - just annoyed. An apprentice fighting a warrior twice her size! I was no match, but I just kept fighting, even with my whole body burning,” she purred, shaking her head again. “I knew that, as long as I kept standing up again, he would not win.  
“Did you win?” Tigerpaw breathed.  
“Of course not. I remember Stoneclaw telling me to stay down, but I simply couldn’t let him win. I fought him until I could barely stand on my legs anymore. I think there was more blood on the grass than in me.”  
“Eventually, Stoneclaw turned around and went to fight someone else. I think he felt bad for me. I looked around to find someone else to fight, eager to prove myself, again and again. I was so strong that I hadn’t even needed to see the medicine cat! I felt proud of my strength, proud of my resilience, and as I hurled myself into battle again, I felt invincible, free of my restraint, and of my fear. I felt like I could take the whole of ShadowClan and WindClan combined.”

Amberspots nodded to a bald spot on her leg. It was almost the size of a mouse. Tigerpaw stared, her eyes open wide, and behind her, Ravenwhisker shot it a brief look, before going back to his work, more focused than ever. He hated hearing this story.

“See that?” As Tigerpaw nodded, she went on: “A scratch isn’t anything, but a whole battle-worth of them- that’s another story. With treatment, they would have been easy to heal, but I was so preoccupied with not allowing myself to be weak that I weakened myself forever. Now, I have no more feeling in this leg - and unlike the shame of losing a battle, I can’t heal from this wound.”  
“I’ll never feel anything in that leg again, yet if I had lost just one battle, if I had stepped out of the field for just one ointment - it could have been enough to save it.”

Tigerpaw let out a gasp. She stayed silent for a moment, as understanding dawned on her. Slowly, she nodded, her eyes glued to the pink skin that showed between the amber splotches of her fur. For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the medicine cat’s fur as he finished treating Tigerpaw’s injury.

Ravenwhisker was the first to break the silence. “There we go," he meowed. "It's as good as new. And I hope that you'll come back if need be," he added with a serious look.

Tigerpaw gave a guilty nod to the tom.

As she was stretching her leg, a pelt bristling could be heard from the entrance to the den, and Bluepaw darted inside. Her blue eyes were uncharacteristically joyful.

“Tigerpaw, what are - nevermind that, just hurry, you mouse-brain! It’s our warrior ceremony!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to make the updates as regular as possible, but sometimes I might simply send everything as it goes.
> 
> Edit: I rewrote the end scene so it felt more natural. I hope it's better as of now.


	3. New Names and Old Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for Tigerpaw's ceremony, Amberspots remembers their good times together.

Tigerpaw was the first to get up and, in a dash of ginger fur, she was gone. Bluepaw stared after her sister, gave a shrug, then followed after her. Bluepaw must be floating on a cloud, Amberspots noted. She didn’t even complain about Tigerpaw ruffling her fur. She looked at the two apprentices padding to Highrock together under the cool light. For once, they were walking side by side, their pelts brushing against each other’s. «If only they got along better.»

“Come on,” Ravenwhisker pressed, startling her. “I don’t want to miss this.”  
“You’ve been saying this for years, yet you always come on time,” Amberspots pointed out as she got to her paws.  
“I know, but I still don’t like to be slowed down” her brother muttered.  
She gave him a playful nudge. “Who are you calling slow?”  
“Who else could I be?” Ravenwhisker snorted with a playful flick of his tail, before pushing the poppy seeds to her. “Come on, slow snail, I don’t want to be late.”

Amberspots grasped the bundle and followed her brother outside of the medicine den, into the freezing wind, where sunhigh was giving way to the cold light of the afternoon. She blinked, startled by the sheer amount of sunshine that had reached her eyes, then took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the forest. She noted that most of the Clan was already in the clearing, discussing in small groups in excited meows. She gazed across the clearing, searching for Tigerpaw, and found her sitting near her sister under the Highrock, stubbornly staring stubbornly away from Bluepaw. «Oh, Tigerpaw…» She felt a twinge of sorrow for their broken bond. «If only you knew how truly little time we have in this life... I know you would appreciate it. You’re still so young. You don’t see how truly precious of a gift it is. But someday you’ll learn to love more what you have - and who you share it with.» She glanced at Ravenwhisker. Suddenly she could see how old he was - how gray his fur was and how frail his muscles were. She could hear his breath quivering with each few steps. «We’re not so young anymore.» Did he wish he still could climb on trees like he used to? «Are there things Tigerpaw will stop being able to do as well?» The thought troubled her. She couldn’t imagine her little kit as anything else than a screeching furball -much less a nostalgic elder. «Aging happens to any cat, regardless of who they are,» she reminded herself. «It’s not something to be feared. I just hope Tigerpaw won’t stop being so energetic.»

“I asked Coldstar to tell the news today,” Ravenwhisker whispered suddenly. “I figured you wouldn’t want the attention of having your own ceremony.”

Amberspots touched his shoulder with her nose, grateful for her brother’s thoughtfulness, before padding towards the rock to sit beside her Clanmates. She turned to Mousefoot and Barkfrost, the mentors of the soon-to-be warriors. They were sitting proudly next to their apprentices, gazing fondly at the two younger cats. Amberspots wondered if they were reminiscing memories of their training. «It must be bittersweet to lose such a connection,» she thought, her heart squeezing. «They’ll still be Clanmates, but it won’t ever be the same…» She felt her heart clench in pity for Breezetail, finally understanding the ache she had felt. As if to reassure her, the words her mother had pronounced despite her nostalgic expression echoed in her head. “It’s okay, little one. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

But Amberspots’s pained eyes were far from the peaceful gaze of her mother. She couldn’t help feeling as though she had lost the tiny kit Tigerpaw had been forever, and that nothing would bring her back. She stared at Tigerpaw, feeling the weight of a thousand memories crush her heart in its claws. She remembered the playfights, the badger rides, the gossiping - all the talking, sharing tongues, hunting, purring. Oh, how much she wished this time was never over.

«Amberspots, look, Mousefoot taught me the hunter’s crouch!»  
«Amberspots, do you think Mushroomtail likes me?»  
«Amberspots, why do the elders have to have so many ticks?»  
«Amberspots, how come I can't be a warrior already?»  
«Amberspots, have you ever been to Mothermouth?»  
«Amberspots, do you have a mother, too?»  
«Do you want to play Rabbit?»  
«Can you show me battle moves?»  
«What’s this bug called?»  
«Do you want to share a mouse with me?»  
«Do you ever miss the nursery?»

And then -

“Amberspots, how long until we can be warriors together?”

She gave a reassuring lick to the small apprentice, and she let her curl up against the bigger she-cat, her tiny head rested against her paws. With calm licks, Amberspots had gently washed the fluffed-up coat, until the only thing she could see was her small ginger flanks slowly moving up and down as she had slowly fallen asleep.

“Very soon, little one. We’re almost there.”

«And indeed we were.» An overwhelming sadness slapped her, shaking her to her core, and for a fleeting moment she thought she would scream until her lungs burned out, and as she came to her senses again, she could only feel despair - the crushing certainty that there was nothing to be done to stop this pain in her chest. She felt it become stronger and stronger, and as she stared numbly in the clearing, the sun and pale sky gave her no comfort.

She turned to her brother for comfort, and as she did so she thought about how familiar this gesture was. Her brother had always been there for her. Always - all their lives - they had been together. Someday they wouldn't be. They would be separated forever. «This always happens,» she howled internally. «This always happens! Someone dies and their loved ones are left behind! To anyone - everyone. They’ll all go through it. This mother and her kits… perhaps one of them will die of greencough, or be eaten. Perhaps they’ll go become apprentices and she won’t see them again. Perhaps she’ll die without seeing them grow up - and they’ll never be like this elder and his son.»

«But what does it matter? He’s frail, and his son is risking his life. They barely have time together anymore. He’ll become just another elder, just another burden in his proud, selfish mind, until he stops visiting and his father dies alone in his sleep. Or perhaps they’ll stay close and he’ll have to watch his only son die of blood loss, or it will be him watching his beloved father die, unable to change it.» In her chest, her lungs screamed agony, her chest aching, her mind screaming for StarClan to relieve her. «All of them - none of us are free. None of us.»

«Perhaps it would be better to never have been here. But they don’t see it, do they? They live in such bliss, while I suffer. What does any of this matter, anyway? These are just thoughts in my head - a small part of my life, and an even smaller part of the universe. Who am I to StarClan to even matter?»

Her fur crushed her bones, squeezing her trembling body until she could barely breathe, and her brother’s pelt felt cold, but it didn’t matter. «Isn’t everything insignificant, come to think about it? These cats were just like ants - dust in the wide forest, ripples in the river. They sit, they talk - but to what purpose? What does this ceremony even do? There was a time when this did not matter - and a time when this will all be forgotten. Why should we bother with it?» Ravenwhisker nudged her shoulder nimbly, but she didn’t move. She felt distant, like a StarClan warrior watching from above, yet unlike her warrior ancestors, she couldn’t feel peace. She could only feel pain, churning in her chest, burning her soul. As her storming thoughts took her higher up, the only thing she could feel was despair, so mind-blowingly deep that it felt numbing. «I can’t even br -»

“Breathe,” whispered someone in her ear. 

He pushed something under her muzzle. “Eat this.” She sniffed it. Poppy seeds, for sound sleep and pain management. Her tongue dried up.

“You’ll feel better, I promise,” Ravenwhisker soothed.

At the sound of her brother’s comforting voice, she found that she could breathe. She lapped at the poppy seed, and managed to swallow it after chewing it numbly. She licked her lips, feeling her mind become blank once more as the familiar feeling of food down her throat disappeared, and she was left with cold, empty nothingness. She looked at her brother for security, trying to grab onto the sight of his jet-black fur like a falling cat to a branch. He gave her shoulder a soft lick.

“You’re doing great,” he promised. The sound of his voice made her insides settle down. She looked at her brother, a faint gleam in her eyes, asking silently for him to guide her out of this nightmare. He stared back, his round, orange eyes full of worry for his sister. “Can you walk?”

Amberspots got to her paws, shaking like a newborn kit. She stared ahead in the deserted clearing, the light hitting her eyes in comforting blindness, wind hitting her face with the smells of snow and fresh-kill. Ravenwhisker’s reached her next, and she felt his fur press against her side. Together, they walked to the elder’s den. The earth under her paws was cold and hard, but if anything it helped her shake herself. Slowly, she dragged herself to the old tree, before letting herself slump down on a nest. She stared blindly at her brother, uncertain of what to do, but she didn’t care either way. It didn’t really matter. Suddenly, worrying about what her brother expected seemed funny. She felt her shoulders release a tension she didn’t know they were holding. Those seeds work fast. As she took her first conscious breath, she realized that Ravenwhisker had settled next to her and was watching her carefully. She blinked gratefully at him. I’ve never been more grateful for the path my brother took, she thought. Who knows if anyone else would have noticed my… wait, is the ceremony still - did I miss the ceremony?

“Is the ceremony done?” she whispered. Part of her was afraid to hear the answer. What if I missed it? Oh StarClan, not Tigerpaw’s warrior ceremony!... Don’t tell me I missed it...  
“I’m afraid it is,” he answered with a sympathetic wince. 

Amberspots let out a pained hiss. Tigerpaw’s ceremony… I was - we were looking forward to this, it was a unique moment of her life and she wanted me to be with her. I would have loved to be there when she got her new name... It was such an incredible moment... and I missed it.

She stared at her paws, her gaze clouding with frustration. All because of my stupid thoughts. Why did I have to be like this - today of all days. Tigerpaw’s probably sad that I missed it. I hope she doesn’t feel hurt. Oh, StarClan, why now? Why did I have to be so featherbrained? She’ll be so sad… Oh, it’s all my fault… She settled her head on her paws, feeling the dull ache give way to deep, deep sadness. She let it consume her until the only thing she heard was her soft breathing, and just like, that she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a pain to write, it's why I decided to cut it in two parts to save myself the struggle. I prooobably should add some fluff to make the story lighter. I just might!  
> .


	4. Whispers of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amberspots wakes up in time for the return of the dawn patrol, where she has time to chat with her favorite ginger warrior.

Amberspots woke up engulfed in darkness. She could barely hear the calm breaths of her brother under her ragged breathing. She stared wildly around the den, eyes alight with panic, before realizing that she was awake. Still groggy from the poppy seeds, she stood up carefully. It was just a dream… She stared around her and recognised the elder’s den, warm and safe, like always. This wasn't real. It was only a dream. I'm okay. Yet the echoes of her dream still twirled in her confused mind, and the faraway scents of old times seemed more real to her than the peaceful figures of her Clanmates. I need to clear my head. She stretched, relishing the softness of the ground under her claws. The den was cozy, and for a moment she dressed to set a paw outside. But as she got to her paws, she realized it was necessary. The faster I calm down, the faster I can go back to sleep. Careful not to wake Ravenwhisker up, she slipped past old Whitewhisker and her mate, Molefang, to finally reach the outside.

Immediately, a cold gush of wind slapped her in the face. Blinking, she breathed in the scents of the sleeping camp, letting a sweet sense of familiarity wash over her, and making her fur smooth down. She recognized every one of these bushes, every one of these dens. She knew who slept where, and what every cat’s last meal had been. She had been one of them for ages, sharing fresh-kill and news with them every day. Nothing would change that. With the poppy seeds’ taste still fresh in her mouth, she felt suddenly peaceful, happy, and her nightmare seemed faint in her mind. Everything was alright - the camp was peaceful, the sky was light, and she could smell the delicious aroma of mice dancing in the fresh morning wind. She breathed in the smells, feeling content, relishing this rare moment of happiness, before sitting down to give herself a good wash, hoping her good mood would last.

It's been a while since I was up in time to see the dawn patrol return, she marveled. I wonder who was in this one. Probably Mushroomtail. Young cats are always the first to wake up! I was like this, too… I always took part in the dawn patrol, and I’d wake up ages before time to make sure I was ready. She purred to herself, then realized that this time was over. She was an elder now, and she'd never go on patrol again. She shut her eyes, trying to accept the sorrow that smashed into her skull, but it only made her feel worse. She could only stand there, unmoving, as the heaviness of her realization slammed into her with the weight of a boulder.

I’m not so young anymore… An elder already… oh StarClan, is this real? I can’t believe it… She looked at her paws, feeling sudden understanding dawn onto her, and as she looked at herself she realized how old she looked. Oh no, StarClan no! I can't be so old already! But it was no use denying it. Her fur was graying, and she had lost her powerful shoulders. With a pained hiss, Amberspots looked away, horrified, and tried to calm her breaths. I’m so old. So… old.

She found herself staring down at the frostbitten earth. It was gray and colorless - lifeless beneath her pained stare. In the silent dawn, wind slashed at her flanks, pressing her patched fur to her sides, and she dared not look up in fear of finding only dark sky to find comfort in. She felt as though something was coming to get her, like she was suddenly a mouse hiding from hunters in the undergrowth. With small steps, she scrambled to a bush, and crouched to hide from the wind, her breath coming in shallow gasps. In the shadows that hid her, she seemed small, and her eyes were alight with untamed anguish.

But even the best hiding spots could not drive away the fear that she had reached her last chapter - that, in a few seasons it would all be over, and she could do nothing to stop it. I’m so close to seeing StarClan now! This all went by so fast… Oh StarClan, has it come to this already?

She hid her face between her paws, feeling a thin wail escape her muzzle. She tried to muffle it, but in the silent clearing, the sound seemed to grow even louder, until she feared every cat had heard her. Have I woken them up? She shot a quick look at the dens, pricking her ears for the sounds of annoyed grunting - but nothing. Nothing except her ragged breathing, and the whispers of the wind as it shook the treetops above.

Good. I wouldn't have wanted to wake them up. They deserve a good sleep. Amberspots took a deep breath, before getting to her paws. She hopped out of the bush, then started padding briskly towards the entrance to the camp. 

As she did so, she heard meowing outside, and after a few seconds the dawn patrol emerged from the ferns, exhausted but satisfied of their morning duty. Tiger - Tigersomething was at their head, running around excitedly, as though she wasn't even sleepy after both her night vigil and the long walk around the border. She was chattering lightly with the other members of the patrol, who just stared apathetically at the young warrior, unsure of how she could keep up her energy. Amberspots purred at the sight of her friend, happy to see her so enthusiastic. This caught her attention, and she bounded happily to the elder.

“Amberspots!” she exclaimed. “Why are you up so early? I thought you were sick! I’m glad you're better! I was so worried when you weren't listening but then I thought you were sick and Ravenwhisker said you were okay! So then I was worried, but Ravenwhisker said you were okay, and he gave you poppy seeds. He always gives me poppy seeds when i’m having trouble sleeping.”

She purred loudly. “I just got back from the dawn patrol! See!” She gestured to her Clanmates with a flick of her tail. “I wanted to come but Beechstep said it was too dangerous, so I was sad. But then Coldstar said we needed young cats’ energy and she said I had some, so I was allowed to go and - where’s Bluefeather? She said she had a -”  
“Tigerstorm!” hissed her sister from the entrance to the warriors’ den. “For the love of StarClan, be quiet!”

Tigerstorm stopped talking abruptly, as though she had clawed her muzzle. Amberspots turned her head, to see Bluefeather trotting briskly towards them. She nodded to Amberspots, then turned to Tigerstorm, her gaze clouded with annoyance.

“Mushroomtail says he wants to see you after you rested,” she announced.  
“Really? What’s it for?” she questioned her eyes sparkling. “What if he asks to be my mate? Isn’t this exciting? I really like Mushroomtail! He's so strong and fun and do you like him? Oh, he’s so handsome! I wish he wanted us to hunt together. What if he wants to sleep next to me in the den? Do you think he wants to? Do you think he thinks I’m funny? Should I learn jokes, too?”  
“I don’t know.” Bluefeather muttered, looking overwhelmed, before turning away.

Tigerstorm gazed after her, looking sad, but soon her gaze turned to irritation. “She never cared about me,” she muttered angrily. “She doesn't ever talk to me. It’s like I don't even exist.” She sighed, and Amberspots could notice a hint of pain in her gaze, but soon she had chased her irritation and her gaze shone as brightly as ever.

“Can you believe that I’m a warrior? Yesterday I slept in the warriors’ den, the nests were so warm! Can you believe I’m going to go to my first Gathering as a warrior? And I can fight in battles, and have kits and - and - This is so exciting!” 

She purred loudly, quivering in excitement, and for a second she looked exactly like the young kit that had approached Amberspots seasons ago, i's small tail flicking in glee, asking for a fighting lesson - and for her favorite hunting spot - and her best battle memories - and for the reason she had such huge shoulders - and how old Coldstar was - and for a story - Amberspots purred. She might be a warrior now, but she was still the same cat. She gave her friend a friendly lick on the ear, happy to see that some things stayed the same.

“Come with me,” she proposed. “Why don’t you tell me all about it over a nice mouse?”

Tigerstorm licked her muzzle, eyes glinting. “Yes!! I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!” Then she padded toward the fresh-kill pile to pick their morning meal. Amberspots looked at her dart toward the pile, feeling deep fondness wash over her for the tiny ginger tabby, remembering the many memories they had made together. She settled down on a dry spot, letting her pelt soak up the white rays of the sun, and closed her eyes to relish the feeling of warmth it brought her. This reminds me of the time she convinced me to show her battle moves, she thought with a purr. I couldn’t say no to her pleading eyes.

I probably should have, saying as she was only a few moons old, she admitted inwardly. But she looked so happy, trying to ‘beat’ the pinecone she had found, Amberspots remembered. Tigerkit had looked up at her proudly as she had pinned the pinecone down with her tiny paws, then asked if she had ever been to battle. Amberspots had nodded.

“Woah!” Tigerkit had forgotten the pinecone to shuffle closer. “Did you fight ShadowClan? Did they win? Did you win? Were you hurt? I bet you weren’t hurt!”  
“In a battle, everyone gets hurt,” Amberspots explained. “Even the strongest warriors get hurt. It’s why a good warrior must be strong and brave, so they can protect their Clan no matter how hurt they are.”  
“Even the leader?” Tigerkit looked uncertain.

“Yes, even the leader; it’s why they have nine lives,” she added.

Tigerkit’s eyes grew round with awe.

“They have nine lives?” the kitten exclaimed. “Really?”  
“Yes, little one,” Amberspots answered, purring. “StarClan gives them many lives so they can protect their Clan for a very long time.”  
“That’s not fair!” Tigerkit protested. “My Mother and Father protect the Clan, too, and they don’t get nine lives.”

“Amberspots! I’m back!”

The sudden meow of the young warrior roused her from her thoughts. She looked up at Tigerstorm, and immediately the scents of vole and mouse reached her nostrils. She felt her mouth water from the perspective of sinking her teeth in the juicy meat, and let a purr escape her jaws.

“Thank you,” she meowed gratefully to the young warrior, realizing how hungry she was. She bit down into her mouse, feeling the musky flavors of the forest dance on her tongue. She gulped down her first mouthful, and happily took a second one, as she listened to Tigerstorm’s story.

“... It was so scary! But then I heard Crowface tell me to move forward. I’m glad she helped me, because I would have never remembered otherwise!” She gave a bitter look to Bluefeather, who was eating a mole with Fernpaw nearby. “Bluepaw - well, Bluefeather - didn’t even flinch.”

She sighed. “She hates me, and I don’t even know why. Everytime I talk to her, she shuts me down.” She stared down at her paws. “Yesterday was different. I finally felt like I had a sister, like you and Ravenwhisker. You two are so close! Yesterday was so much fun, when we ate near the medicine den! We had a good time. I wish we would do this more! What was i saying? Oh, right, Bluefeather and me… We’re just not close. I don’t know why - yesterday, we got along so well! She didn’t even complain about me getting in her paws! I was so happy! We actually joked a little.”

A sad glint appeared in her blue gaze, but she chased it out after a few seconds.

“But that’s okay, I suppose these things happen sometimes. Besides, I’m a warrior now! I have so much to do that I have no time to worry about that!”

Amberspots gave her a comforting lick on the ear. She knew that, even though she was trying to be brave, she felt hurt by the state of her bond with Bluefeather. “Some things take more time than others,” she comforted quietly. “Perhaps if you saw things from her perspective, you would find clues as to how you two can make up,” she added, looking up at Bluefeather and Fernpaw. Tigerstorm followed her gaze.

“She looks quite fond of Fernpaw,” Tigerstorm admitted with a hint of jealousy. “She doesn’t even look annoyed!”  
“Maybe there is something you could learn from their friendship,” explained Amberspots with a nod.

She looked at Tigerstorm scrunch her muzzle in search of an answer, until finally, she stammered: “She always says I’m getting in her paws. I remember that when we were training, I was always correcting her postures. She usually got mad at me when I did that. But Fernpaw wouldn’t say anything, so she would always train with her instead. Perhaps she prefers when cats mind their own business,” she concluded hesitantly. “But I’m only trying to help…” Then she sighed. “But if Bluefeather doesn’t like it, I suppose I can try to be less nosey,” she reasoned.

Amberspots nodded appreciatively. “That’s good. What else?” she prompted.

Tigerstorm hummed pensively. “Fernpaw isn’t really talkative,” she noticed. “I talk a lot. But it’s not my fault I talk so much! It’s genetic… It’s always been this way - I can’t change that,” she muttered. She looked discouraged. “What if she hates me forever?”

Amberspots gave her a reassuring lick on the ear. “Just talk to her,” she advised. “You two are warriors, now, and you need to have a good bond with each if your Clanmates if you want to fight adequately by their side.” Tigerstorm nodded silently, and the old she-cat left her think in peace while she finished her mouse. As the minutes went by, she realized that her dark thoughts were returning. She focused on the taste of mouse on her tongue, but as her meal reached its end, she had to accept them once again. She’s grown so much… She’s become a strong warrior, and I couldn’t be more proud if she were my own daughter, nor my apprentice. I just wish I could stay with her for a longer time… but it has reached its end, and soon StarClan will welcome me in its ranks… She felt cold dread make her stomach empty. I’m not ready to go yet! She shook her head, searching for a distraction.

Suddenly, she remembered that Mushroomtail had asked to see Tigerstorm that morning. It was probably time for their meeting. Thus, she stretched, before nudging Tigerstorm gently.

“It’s time for your meeting with Mushroomtail,” she reminded her.

The striped warrior sprang to her paws, her gaze sparkling. “Right! I'll tell you all about it, I promise!” she exclaimed. Then she was gone in a flash of ginger fur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This chapter was emotional for me to write and I had to redo some of the work I had already done for it to make it more readable. There's more of it to come soon! Good day, Warriors fandom!
> 
> Edit: some of the punctuation is missing, but I don't really have the energy or time to change it as of now. However, if it's too hard to read, I'ok make sure to change it.


	5. Mice, Leaves, and Whiskers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I followed the advice of a fellow fan fiction writer and decided to call she-cats 'mollies' instead of 'she-cats'. Their username is MurasakiNoAo and they wrote an awesome rewrite of Into the Wild, feel free to go check it out!!!
> 
> It's great to be back!!! I missed this story and these characters. Sorry it took so long! I had stuff going on in my personal life, but now that things are better, I'll probably be posting more regularly. I have a few chapters ready as of now so you can expect more updates next week.
> 
> And I'll absolutely finish it, in case you were wondering. It was just a long hiatus.
> 
> Another thing: the italics work really bad, so be warned! I'm sure it won't be too problematic, but just in case, I wanted to apologize. I'll get the hang of it soon!

Amberspots purred a goodbye to the young warrior as she dashed out of her sight in a flash of white snow. Cold flecks reached her nose and she sneezed to get them off. As she did so, she almost missed hearing pawsteps her way. She turned toward the sound, only to see that Bluefeather had skidded to a halt and was standing awkwardly before her, her blue gaze refusing to meet the amber eyes of her elder. The black warrior stood rigid, tracing little trails in the snow with a white paw as if she were stalling for time, opening and closing her mouth in a loss for words. Amberspots waited patiently as she awkwardly meowed a greeting, before finally looking up and stammering:

“It’s a very nice day today, isn’t it?” Her voice was shaking, and Amberspots asked herself if she was imagining the sharp breaths she was taking, as though in panic. Her eyes were wide and nervous; Bluefeather had always been nervous about speaking to people, but this time, it seemed like something else was going on. The old warrior eyed her in confusion, her heart softening, before shuffling over to the side in a silent invitation for sitting down with her.

“It is,” she answered distractedly. “The snow is particularly beautiful.” She gestured to the translucent crystals falling softly, sleepy yellows and elegant blues, slowly melting on her pelt as they piled on it. She watched them fall for a few seconds, lost in contemplation, as she noticed Bluefeather sit down next to her, her eyes still turned away. “It makes everything feel more welcoming, with these white pelts that muffle sound.”

The dark warrior nodded faintly, taking a second to admire the snow, before finally turning to Amberspots. Her blue eyes were worried, and there was a strange vulnerability in them, one that she didn't show often. Perhaps she felt nervous about coming to talk to Amberspots, she mused to herself. After all, they rarely engaged in conversations outside of training - but when they did, their chats were usually pleasant and engaging. And it was true that Bluefeather hated small talk. For a few seconds, Amberspots felt guilty about dragging her into it, but seeing as Bluefeather had been the one to initiate it, she decided to wait.

“It makes me think of RiverClan,” she meowed, voice uncertain. “They’re weaker in leaf-bare, because the river’s frozen, so they have less fish. They're also really cold, I'm sure. They have less trees than us, so they must be freezing when they go out of camp. Especially near the river. Well, I mean, it doesn’t snow near the riverbank, right? So maybe it’s hotter there. But at the same time, sand is cold, and water freezes easily, so the land nearby must be freezing… and there’s less trees near the water, so more wind. I've been thinking about it, but I can’t figure it out.”

Amberspots hummed thoughtfully. “Did you notice what ferns grow near it? They might give you the answer. Plants look a certain way because of where they take root. Long herbs grow only in WindClan, where the breeze is strong, whereas trees with large leaves grow where the sun is bright, like here, in ThunderClan.”

Bluefeather nodded. “So what the plants look like could give me a clue on the weather down the riverbank,” she murmured, half to herself. “That’s pretty clever. Ravenwhisker?” she inquired.

Amberspots purred, remembering her loud crashing from her hiding spot, and the astonished eyes of her brother as he had let out a panicked squeal. “Not exactly. I used to listen in on his training sessions with his mentor.” _That was a long time ago, _she added inwardly. The medicine cat who had trained Ravenwhisker had died seasons ago, and the tree she used to climb into to listen in had grown into a huge, majestic oak. _And I can’t climb on trees like I used to, either. I’m much too old. _She felt a wave of sadness crash into her, making her eyes misty. _Time really has done me wonders. I can barely walk. Soon I’'ll be dying in my bedding, if this continues. _She was suddenly aware that Bluefeather had asked her a question. Shaking herself, she looked up to the young molly, to see that she was staring at her expectantly. Amberspots strained herself to remember what the question was, and recalled having heard something in the lines of “Did plants look different when you were younger?”_ _ _ _ _ _

___________She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Trees grow and flowers bloom, but they’re the same every year.”_  
“But the weather’s hotter,” Bluefeather argued, her confusion obvious. “Shouldn’t it have changed what they look like?”  
Amberspots hummed. “I suppose changing is a slow process, if they do change.” 

______Bluefeather stayed silent for a moment._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why do they change? Are they like us? Do they need food and warmth? Is this why they change, to be healthier? I mean, plants don’t eat, or drink, but…” She trailed off, seemingly confused._ _ _ _ _ _

______Amberspots shrugged apologetically. The young warrior scrunched her face, deep in thought, as she stood up slowly before meowing a goodbye. She trotted away, shaking her dark pelt from the snow that had settled on it, leaving the old queen by herself in the snowy clearing. The amber molly felt disappointment bite at her fur, surprised and a little saddened that Bluefeather had left so soon, but she said nothing of it and simply waved her goodbye with her tail. Then, as she was alone again, she was left to her thoughts, and started to wonder why the quiet warrior had come ahead to talk to her. Usually, she would come to Amberspots for advice or for news, but this was neither of those things. They had talked about herbs, a subject that was quite foreign to her, and while she knew that Bluefeather had a keen interest in the forest, she did not bring it up often in Amberspots’ presence. She had suspected that Bluefeather had only been searching for something to talk about and fill the silence, and as so she had been waiting for an announcement or a question that would explain her sudden companionship, but she had left before they could talk more. _Perhaps she forgot what she came here for, she guessed._ _Or perhaps I’m reading too much into this and she simply wanted to have a chat. She is allowed to make friends. Well - if being friends with an elder is even something younger cats would consider. _Not that it was wrong - it’s not as if they were to be mates, in which case an age gap like this one would be catastrophic. Being friends was fine: cats were allowed to be friends with someone older than them. It’s just that she never saw it for herself. In ThunderClan, most cats tended to stay with their own age groups - apprentices with apprentices, kits with kits, warriors with warriors._ _ _ _ _ _ __

______And the elders… most of them did not have friends at all, with there being so few of them in the den to talk to. Sometimes, there were only one or two elders in the Clan, or not at all, and with the age policy that the Clan seemed to have unconsciously adopted, there was not much they could do about it. Of course, they could always stay friends with the younger cats - but to be honest, it was mostly one-sided on the elders’ part. She never really thought about how isolated they were - how they rarely received visitors other than grumbling apprentices here only for tick-picking, or the medicine cat to keep them alive. None of their old friends would come visit, and young cats rarely socialized with elders of their own free will. Sometimes, it was almost as though they were part of a different Clan; forgotten, or treated like they were fragile and kitlike. As though being an elder meant becoming someone else, taking on a new identity._ _ _ _ _ _

______She let her head rest on her paws, trying to ignore the cold wind that floated through her limbs. She felt as though she had swallowed a stone, and her whole body was reacting in horror. Her thoughts felt awful - her feelings were too much. She would have liked to shrug them off, but she had no energy for it. Instead, she kept thinking, hoping that perhaps she would find peace afterwards. She thought about how miserable her odds of making friends again were, of how unfair this all was. Of how many elders she had known, and had failed to understand, to respect as much as she should have. She remembered the slight wince of a yellow molly, the apathetic gaze of a red tom, the brisk silence of the elders’ den, the strange feeling she used to have as a young warrior, when she walked next to the elders’ den without entering, feeling as though this wasn't what a warrior would do; this isn’t my duty anymore. I don’t need to come here, I shouldn't go in. It isn’t a warrior is expected to do. She remembered how she had missed the friends she had made during her apprenticeship, how their eyes used to light up when she entered their den. She wondered if it hurt, knowing that apprentices would one day stop coming to visit them, that they were only there because they had to, that no matter how friendly or eager they were, there would come a time when it wouldn’t be appropriate anymore._ _ _ _ _ _

______Warriors never visited elders, and although some apprentices genuinely enjoyed spending time with them, that in the end, it would be too childish, too sentimental - warriors didn’t need to go to the elders, only apprentices do. And warriors saw elders as cats you saw for the occasional reassurance, or for information of long ago. Never would they simply go to them because they wanted to. It was only for a visit, a trip down memory lane, a short hello - it was even called a visit. It was never called “hanging out”, or simply “Cloudpool and I are going to Sunningrocks”, it was almost as though it wasn’t just spending the afternoon with a Clanmate. “Taking care of”, “paying a visit”, almost like it was a responsibility. Was it even a pleasant one? It felt like it wasn't, seeing as it was so rare to see warriors visiting the rider's den._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was strange, to be so isolated from one’s own Clanmates, and frankly, it served no purpose, made no sense. Surely the warrior code did not approve of such a thing? Why was it this way then? They did live in the same clearing. They even used the same dirtplace. But sometimes it felt like plains and mountains separated them, and the knowledge felt dark and heavy to her. She repressed a frantic snarl, remembering familiar faces from older times. Stoneburrow, Bloomhen, Rabbitclaw. Yellowstar, Kindberry, Blueheart. Staggerlily. Cricketfang. _Forgive me, my friends, for how I ignored you. How I stopped coming by, and how I stopped seeing you as my friends. I should have been there with you, not left you behind like a rabbit’s droppings the second I wasn’t bound by the warrior code anymore. _The weight of guilt was a big one, pushing down on her like a boulder, and she struggled to breathe, as the faces of her friends wavered around in her mind, almost taunting her.___ _ _ _ _ _

________She had never noticed how sad their eyes were, nor how hurt they looked when a former apprentice would pass by the den without even as much as a hello. She should have noticed, she should have been there, yet she had failed, and now they were gone, and she would be gone, and everyone else would go, too. And it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t pretty, but since when was this fair? Nothing made sense - the Clan was a ridiculous parody of a peaceful home, the warrior code was nothing but words that did nothing to stop the horrors she had seen and the deaths she had witnessed from happening, and the camp life was ridiculous as it was confining. Everything felt ridiculous, everything felt horrible, and for a moment, Amberspots wished she could simply walk away, and go somewhere where there would be none of this terrible loneliness hanging above her head, looming closer everyday, but it was but a thought._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She felt the thought break apart, almost physically; as though an egg had cracked inside of her head; and instead of a bird emerging, a fresh wave of pain darted from it, howling loudly, crashing into her sides and her face like the biting wind of leaf-fall. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, just as much as when her flank had been sliced open, but this time there was nobody to treat her wound. There were no Clanmates to protect, no honor in her suffering to make her purr under the pain and embrace its scorching bite. She was alone, an old molly covered in snow shivering under a white sun, frail and weak, head bowed and eyes misty, remembering things she wished she was able to atone for but she wasn’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Her Clanmates passed her, unaware, uncaring, bowing their heads in respect or meowing a brief hello before returning to their duties. She didn’t respond, but after some time, she decided she should go someplace else. She hadn’t quite noticed it, but it was morning already, and cats were swarming around the deputy to receive their duties for the day. She did not want to disturb them, and so, as much as it exhausted her to move, she steeled herself and dragged herself to her paws. Her head was spinning, but luckily the ground was sturdy enough so that she could steady herself. Carefully, she slid away to the elders’ den, and rolled herself into her nest. Ravenwhisker had left, unsurprisingly, and even though she missed his warmth already, she had no energy to spare in bitterness. She closed her eyes, and deep sleep bloomed into her mind like the fastest of snowdrops._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Sky Blues and Snow Whites

She woke up when her aching bones became too loud to ignore, and as she stretched slowly to dissipate the pain, and it all came to her mind; Tigerstorm and the message from Mushroomtail; memories of her mother; Bluefeather and her unexpected friendliness; sitting in despair in the middle of the clearing; dragging herself up miraculously; the deep sleep that had consumed her as soon as she had settled down. Her bedding was cold and damp from the snow that had fallen from her fur, and it smelled sharp and uninviting. She didn’t have the strength to leave it, however, and decided to fall asleep again to avoid having to change it. She noted distractedly that it wasn’t her duty to clean up her nest anymore - someone else would do it for her, an apprentice or a punished warrior. She felt bad about it, but she was too exhausted to give it much thought. She wanted to take a walk, or speak with Ravenwhisker, to clear her head up again, but the thought felt unappealing.

She stayed in this state for a long time, unsure if she was asleep or awake, her thoughts fuzzy and her body numb. The pain in her joints felt almost unreal, and for a minute, she felt utterly baffled at whether this was even her body or not. She looked around, discomfort blooming in her tired mind, and found that she couldn’t understand why she was here, or who she was, or what had happened yesterday. She felt far away, as though she were already with StarClan, and she was looking down at herself. She was without time, unable to fix her attention on specific questions or information, as though her brain had become gooey and useless. The more she thought about it, the more she felt panicked; something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Cats weren’t supposed to leave their bodies like this, or forget everything about their lives, or to feel a horrible throbbing in their chest as their heart screamed at them to stop this nonsense and get back to normal already. But her mind felt relaxed. It was unaware of everything, couldn’t remember why she had been upset in the first place, and it was happy like this. It didn’t want to go back to her body.

She looked at her paws, flexing her claws, strangely aware of how soft her fur was. She liked their color. They looked nice. But they had looked different when she was a kitten, though. She couldn’t remember much about the past, actually - or much at all. She couldn’t remember her mother’s name, or what the Clan was called. Not even the color of the forest, or what her brother smelled like.

She panicked, but her instincts kicked in. If she couldn’t remember, she would have to find clues. She didn't know how long this would stay, but there was no way she would simply have no background knowledge anymore, so she pushed herself to think. She strained herself to make a connection, and it felt like she was heaving the biggest boulder on her back, but finally she did it. I must have been a kitten: my name was Amberkit back then. It left her surprised; the thought felt as though it was intruding on her peace. For a second, she felt nothing, then, she came back to her senses, or rather crashed back into them. It felt bad and painful and confusing and scary. She didn’t want to thunk about this again, she wanted to forget. She shut her eyes and, ignoring the sunrays that were drawing warm patterns on her flank, she let herself fall asleep again.

This time, it was the soft nudge of a paw that woke her up. She recognized the scent of Tigerstorm, and let out a purr as she made out a faint “Amberspots, wake up!”. She blinked away the sleep and looked over her shoulder; Tigerstorm’s huge blue eyes stared back at her, happy as usual. The old queen heaved herself up to greet her; as she was letting out a greeting, she noticed that the young molly was carrying fresh moss in her jaws. She eyed her in surprise, then stepped aside with a small purr, and settled to watch her friend rearrange her bedding.

“You know, I can do that myself,” she purred. “No need to bother yourself, little one.”

Tigerstorm turned back to face her, her eyes glinting in the cold light.

“But I never had the chance to do it! You weren’t an elder until yesterday,” she protested. “It's so much fun, I have the best moss, pleeeaaase?”

Amberspots let out an amused purr, then nodded good-naturedly. She gave herself a wash as she watched the ginger tabby make her nest for her. It felt strange to have someone else make a nest for her, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Strangely, it felt different to make a nest than to be made one; back when she was still an apprentice, she had made her fair share of bedding for the elders, and she had felt proud to cater to the most respected members of the Clan. Now, however, she found that she disliked having someone serving her like this. Of course, this was Tigerstorm, it was different. But she couldn’t help it; her heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest, and it stopped only when the molly had finally looked up at her proudly.

“There you go! A fresh bed, just for you!” Tigerstorm exclaimed. “Do you like it? I fetched the softest moss I could find, it was at the Great Sycamore, it was quite a walk!!! I had fun, I even saw an owl! They’re really cute, except when they’re flying towards you, because that’s scary.” She shuddered. “Mushroomtail told me this story about a kitten called Owleyes that had all the powers of the night, and he became so powerful and scary that the old leaders had to chase him away. Does that exist for real? I think he was making it up. I hope it wasn’t, because it was really scary. I wouldn’t want to meet him in person.”  
“Of course it’s not true, little one,” she reassured Tigerstorm with a slight touch of her tail. “And if it were, I would protect you,” she added.

Tigerstorm purred. “No, I would protect you! I can! I’m a warrior now,” she exclaimed, puffing out her chest. “I wouldn’t let you get hurt, ever!”

The old warrior felt a strange stirring in her chest, like an ache or a splinter, but she ignored it. She looked at Tigerstorm, and realized that it was true. She was every bit the warrior s he was claiming to be, she was strong and brave and noble. She would be a great asset to the Clan, and Amberspots felt a spur of pride bubble in her chest. Yet some other part of her heart felt hurt and useless in spite of this; she couldn’t protect her anymore, and soon she would go into danger and have to fight for her life and for her Clanmates, and even though she knew it was expected and right and noble, she wished that Tigerstorm were still the kit she had nursed and played with, that she could protect her, that she were the one to leap into danger while her kit was safe and sound in camp. She would give anything just to have Tigerstorm be safe and innocent again, and not the strong, savvy cat she saw before her.

She would not have minded fighting any battle, suffering any injury, simply to protect her, but now that the molly would be in battle, too, pain and war suddenly felt like too much - now that the ferocity of protection that had allowed her to harden herself was gone; now, she saw battles for what they really were, for what they could do to her kit. They hadn’t been scary, or brutal, or wrong, when all that had mattered was to keep her family and her Clan safe; but now, they were. She was scared of Tigerstorm being hurt, of seeing her come back from battle with her gaze blank and her legs shaking, of losing her friend to an unjust battle, of seeing her happy, bright Tigerstorm be soiled with the blood of innocent cats and the guilt of fighting for the wrong reasons. Suddenly, she was seeing the life of the Clan through someone else’s eyes, and it struck her how hard it was to keep going like this. How harsh it could be, and how unforgiving.

And she wished nothing else but to protect her dear kit from this life, but she could do nothing. She wasn’t a warrior anymore, she wasn’t strong, she could never protect her like she had before. And it hurt. It felt like she had failed, like she had done something wrong. Shame bit at her muzzle like mosquitoes on a rainy day, but she shook it off, because she didn’t want Tigerstorm to worry, much less to feel bad or upset. She looked at her friend and, pushing herself to forget every sad thought she had had, tried to focus on how you Tigerstorm looked. This somewhat made her own thoughts worse, and she felt herself become numb, lose herself more. It felt as though she didn’t care anymore, like she was just sort of there, and happy about things. She purred, looking at her friend again, but before she became completely crazy and lost track of everything again, she snapped herself back to reality by standing up, and the pain of her joints jolted her back to her senses.

Tigerstorm was chatting happily, talking about birds and greenleaf and Mushroomtail. Amberspots couldn’t find it in herself to pay attention, her mind still whirling, but she still caught a few words, and found that she had somewhat understood what the young molly had been saying once she was finished. He asked her if she’d like to go on hunting patrols together. She purred in congratulations and the young cat looked away in embarrassment, although her eyes shone with happiness.

“It’s just hunting,” she muttered, tracing lines in the ground with a paw, unable to hide the tiny purr that rumbled in her throat. “It’s not like he asked me to be his mate or something.” Then she looked at her friend, her gaze bright. “Not that I wouldn’t like that, he’s so awesome and kind and funny and…”

Amberspots didn’t quite understand everything the molly had said, still apathetic despite her best efforts to be supportive and affectionate towards her friend, but it was still abundantly clear that Tigerstorm was thrilled with the idea of growing closer to the young tom. It’s not like it was surprising - she had been ears over tail for him for moons. She still remembered the first time she had caught this special look in her protégée’s eyes. They were on a hunting patrol, with Tigerstorm’s mentor leading the group; the ginger apprentice had been following Mousefoot like a shadow, her shoulders clenched and her eyes low. Her nervousness could be smelled at the end of the line, where Amberspots had been walking alongside Beechstep and Mushroomtail, who would be made a warrior that night. Mushroompaw was nervous, too, and he had related to the young molly’s fears; so he had shyly approached her, and had made a joke about what he had thought his warrior name was going to be. The young molly had laughed despite her nervousness, making Mushroompaw beam with pride. They had been close ever since then, exchanging glances when they thought nobody was looking, and purring when they were together. It was obvious to everyone that they would one day become mates, and Amberspots could only agree with them that they would make a good pair.

As she spoke with excitement of their upcoming outing, Amberspots caught sight of a light pelt walking outside in the clearing. She recognized Mushroomtail, and as she let her eyes drift towards him for an instant, she noticed he had heard Tigerstorm’s voice, and she almost let out a purr when she saw how delighted he seemed to hear her voice. He looked completely lovesick. Then the young tom’s eyes locked with Amberspots’s, and he looked down in embarrassment, then nodded to her in greeting, then looked down again, before he went back to carrying the squirrel he had chosen towards the nursery. The elder stifled a purr. _It's always nice to see young cats in love,_ she thought. _Fresh love, so nervous and honest, between two cats set on giving the best of themselves, loving so fully. Older cats tend to be more guarded, but young cats… they give it so freely. They make more mistakes this way, though. Perhaps it’s what hardens their innocence eventually. But when they do finally give their trust, it’s all the more meaningful and blissful. Not to say that young cats do not know real, powerful, trusting love. These two, for example, seem to be a good match. But what do I know? I've never taken a mate. ___

__Something stung her, from deep inside of her mind; Amberspots felt her head spin, and reflexively reached out for the bundle of poppy seeds that Ravenwhisker had given her. It was still there, by the side of the den, unbothered by the wind and the rain. It wasn't even soggy, she thought in marvel. It was as though it had been spared the violence of the storm. _Not like me,_ she thought with a snarl. _I can’t even be happy for my friend properly. I have to be sad and ruin the mood._ For a moment, she wished she could simply purr and be happy for her friend like a proper Clan cat should be, but she took them nevertheless. It wasn’t like she had any other choice - and she had grown since the time she would refuse treatment._ _

__She swallowed the tiny seeds and turned back to Tigerstorm, letting out a raspy purr as she saw how bright and lively her blue eyes were. _Tigerstorm’s always so cheerful,_ she thought, amazed. _She never lets her hopes down.__ _

__Amberspots gave her an affectionate lick on the ear, before sitting down, suddenly feeling exhausted. The softness of her bedding surprised her, and she thanked the ginger warrior with a grateful dip of the head. Tigerstorm blinked happily. She was almost vibrating._ _

__“Do you like it? I’m so happy I made this, I missed making beddings! Is it comfortable? It looks comfortable? What time is it? Should I be on my way? Is Bluefeather still awake?”_ _

__Amberspots purred in reassurance. “She’s in the warriors’ den,” she answered. “Mushroomtail will be waiting for you in the forest, at sunhigh,” she continued, remembering that she had mentioned it earlier. She wanted to add something, but she was cut off by her own yawn._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Tigerstorm meowed. “I didn’t mean to take so much of your time. I'll let you rest,” she concluded. “I'll tell you all about the date, I promise.”_ _

__Then she scampered off, and Amberspots looked at her ginger fur fading in the white light if the camp. The old molly watched her leave, feeling pride bubble in her chest. _She’s so happy and energetic. She’ll be a good asset to the Clan._ She didn’t dare ask herself what that statement said of herself, and letting her head settle on her paws, she closed her eyes and let herself relax once again._ _


	7. Softness of Moss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of giving up on having proper HTML on this work, since it's really a pain to make it work. I'm sorry, I hope it's not too hard to read! Enjoy!

She did not fall asleep again; although she was very much willing to escape her thoughts with dreams of catching mice, something was keeping her up, something strange that stirred in her belly and would not quiet down. It was as though her body was telling her to stay awake. She complied, because in all her moons of battle, she had learned to listen to her instincts and to rely on the bristling of her fur and the twitching of her whiskers, for they would often be right, and tell her something she had failed to realize yet. Sometimes, they would tell her if an enemy was too much for her; or sense when it was the right moment to strike. Often, the feeling of dread would haunt her for nights, and would barely disappear after she woke up and received her tasks for the day. She would not understand what it meant back then; but now, she knew that it was telling her that her body was tired, and afraid of jumping head-first into reckless battles again. It was telling her what she was too proud to admit: young Amberspots did not like to rest, for she felt ashamed of herself when she did. She thought often that to not show up for battle was as good as losing it, and the feeling of shame would nag her until she gave in and crept out of the medicine cat's den to follow her Clanmates to battle.

It did prove to be a good thing, sometimes: Amberspots would be coming late, and she would be able to call for reinforcements if need be. But more often than not, it proved to be a foolish idea; she would be wounded and weak, and had no other advantage than surprise at her side. She would jump on the enemy, hissing and snarling, and knock them over; sometimes, it would suffice for the enemy Clan to think that reinforcements were coming, and they would all leave. Her Clanmates would be relieved, if she had helped them win a hard fight; or confused as to why she was out there instead of resting. Sometimes, she wondered it it was right for her to do so. It felt like she was intruding on someone else's battle, and she was not sure if the warrior code said something about barging in on the battlefield when your help wasn't needed. She would ask herself if tbhey would be insulted, and think that she wanted to play the hero, or have the honor and glory of chasing the enemy away without even being a part of the battle. It wasn't true, because, to an unlikely level, Amberspots just liked to throw herself in a battle and fight everything she saw. But it was true that it was honor that motivated her to an extent; she felt like it was a shameful thing to miss out on a battle, and she didn't want to be a coward.

She would be lying if she said that she had never been thrilled with the perspective of battle, of playing hero: like all cats who had never been in a battle, she had been glorifying it. Kits would play battle, but in their battles, nobody was hurt, nobody was in pain. Racking someone's nose wasn't something that sent a shiver down your spine, or felt instinctively wrong and backwards; and hearing screams of war and pain around you wasn't horrible and panic-inducing, it was the music of battle and the sound of heroism itself. Everything she would come to sober up to, she had once dreamed about, and thought of as a wonderful thing. She had been told that battle was hard and awful, but she had never really understood the idea. She only saw how warriors would come back and be showered with respect and admiration; how to fight was the greatest honor and the most brave thing a cat could do, and the wounds weren't painful in her mind, they felt great, for they were the proof that you had fought for your Clan. Of course, she knew from experience how much torn claws hurt, and how playfights that turned ugly would be agressive and leave her with aches all over; but she had thought that there would be something about battle that would make the pain disappear. She remembered she used to think that honor was a painkiller, and that the context of a battle - the buildup, the drama, the motivation - would make fighting beautiful and safe, a fantasy of glory and honor that would come to life eventually.

Needless to say, she had been wrong. A torn claw always hurts, no matter what gave it to you, and so did the battle sounds she received. She had sobered up, and her dreams of pride and honor had changed into something else, as fear and anxiety slowly crept inside her conception of battle. Something that made her risk herself in battle, and fight until her legs stopped moving, and barge in unannounced to fight every fight and suffer every wound. She would come to fight even when she was already wounded; her Clanmates came to anticipate it, and it wasn't as much of a surprise anymore after a few moons, but at that point, the medicine cat at the time had already given her a speech about letting her wounds heal before she was more scarred flesh than cat. But she was hot-headed, and she would sneak out and fight anyways, because there was something in her pelt that tugged and bit and would only calm when she was out there, defending her Clanmates, being on the front lines for them, willing to lay down her life for them. She would rush and knock over opponents when they were winning against her friends, daring them to fight her instead, and her ears would be pricked for a scream of a familiar voice. She would fight and claw and kick until there was no cat left to fight, until she heard victorious howls through the forest claiming ThunderClan's win for everyone to hear.

She kept fighting and fighting, and one day, Coldstar invited her to her den and -

She did not want to remember any more. She shook her pelt from the moss that had clung to it, and looked at it for a little too long. She felt a strange sadness at the thought of discarding the moss. It had barely had the chance of proving itself before it got ripped off the nest. Something akin to compassion fluttered in her chest, and she rolled it in a ball and placed it carefully next to her nest. Perhaps there would be kits in need of a moss ball that would take it. As long as it's good for something. Then she gave herself a wash, feeling her bones ache from the stretching. She looked at the moss ball as she finished her wash and padded towards the entrance of her den to feel the light on her pelt. Hopefully it can have another chance at this. Then she padded out of the den.

Her thoughts were still with the moss ball, even with the agitation of the camp surrounding her, and now that she was away from it, she felt a little ashamed at her behavior. She didn't know what came upon her, or why she had felt so strongly for scraps of moss. Maybe I'm crazy, she thought sternly. I wouldn't be surprised. A moss ball... Compassion was supposed to be something one felt for kits, or for prey; an honourable emotion that made warriors fight for their homes all the more strongly. And there she was, feeling sympathy for a moss ball. Curling it in a ball so it wouldn't feel dejected. Wishing it good luck and hoping it would have a good use. That was ridiculous - and yet she hadn't stopped herself from acting on it. What a warrior I am.

She remembered she wasn't one only after she had thought it. She felt something cold weight on her belly, and for a moment, she wondered if she had drank from the frozen puddle again, for the bite of frost felt so very real and so very icy in her throat and her stomach. She licked her lips, but there was only the taste of meat under her tongue. She stretched, hoping to dissolve the ice, then made her way towards the medicine cat's den.

Ravenwhisker was awake, and she caught a glimpse of his black fur at the back of the den. He was probably stocking herbs, she guessed from the way he was muttering. He always recited the names of what he was holding when he organized his den. He had told her it was a way of focusing on his task, and from what she had seen, it worked wonders. She did not dare to disturb him and went to sit somewhere away.

It turned out to be useless, since Ravenwhisker had already seen her and was walking towards her. He seemed happy, and it didn't take long before Amberspots felt herself be a little more joyous.

-Back so soon? he called, his eyes glinting with his usual humour. Are you considering becoming a medicine cat? he joked, touching his nose to her ear in greeting. Maybe I should make you my apprentice.  
-You wish, she retorted. All this food the apprentices bring would make me soft, she teased, nudging his fat belly with a paw.

He opened his eyes wide in mock astonishment, unable to repress the purr that was growing in his throat.

-I'll have you know I walk plenty when I fetch herbs, he answered, sitting down in front of her. Have you ever walked over the whole territory in one day? It's nothing you warriors can do, he added in a purr.

Amberspots could not repress a slight flinch at the word. I'm not a warrior anymore. The medicine cat must have understood that, too, from the way his eyes glinted apologetically. She gave a flick of her ear to dismiss it. There was no use in dwelling on the reality. She let out a purr instead, her voice hoarse but still cheerful. This was their joke, their usual banter from the day they had started training. He was a medicine cat she was a warrior, and they had always teased each other about it. It would have been more painful to stop doing it than to call herself by her old title again. And her brother would enjoy that it kept going. So, she answered, with a bit of her usual energy, trying to somehow channel the energy of the laughter that would occur to make her joking expression realistic. There's no way I'm letting him down on this one.

-Pfah! Try it doing it with a mouthful of rabbit, she teased. You medicine cats are too soft, you think everything's exercise.

Ravenswood purred, but his eyes were distracted. She saw that he was eyeing her like she was his patient, glancing somewhat critically over her skinny shoulders. She tilted her head in confusion, and he looked back at her, but when he did, he wasn't locking eyes as much as he was staring at something in her eyes. She didn't know what he was doing it for, but she guessed it wasn't just for the sake of convenience. He wasn't the type to do check-ups during family time. Whatever it was just have him concerned.

She decided to approach the subject lightly, joking instead of asking him what was wrong. The seriousness of his gaze left her nervous, and while she had no fear of her brother, she never knew what to tell medicine cats when they were studying her. She preferred to distract them enough so they would let her go, or distract herself from the fear of missing out on the next battles. Today was different.

-What? Have I got something in my ears? Ticks, perhaps? she meowed, scratching her head for good measure.

She looked back at her brother, and saw his sorrowful gaze. She held it, trying to read his mind, then just waiting when it failed.

-You haven't been well, he admitted honestly. I'm worried about you.

He hesitated for a moment, then added:

-I know you haven't been eating properly for moons, and you haven't slept soundly for at least a year. I'm worried, and I don't know how I can fix it. I'm not… I haven't seen you like this since Twilightpaw died, it's… I'm surprised. I've never…

He put his tail around Amberspots' shoulders and gently guided her towards the exit, where he sat them down on a soft grass patch that was untouched by the snow.

-It's not something I've seen in a long time. Remember that time when there was redcough in the camp? We were apprentices back then. After Bloomhen's kits became sick, and we lost all hope of their recovery, my mentor asked me to watch over the mother and see that she was feeling well. I didn't understand why she would need treatment, but I still watched over her like he had told me. I didn't understand why, until… well… she just started to fade away. It felt like she had turned to ashes. She wouldn't speak, she refused to ear, and she stayed in her nest all day. Sometimes, she forgot to wash, and it didn't seem to bother her. Nothing seemed to bother her anymore. And her eyes were sullen and so full of grief... We would try and talk to her, but she would barely seem to notice we were here. I asked my mentor about it, told him she was sick. I thought she had caught redcough from her kits, but my mentor told me she had caught something else from them, something far, far worse.  
-What was it? Amberspots asked.

She had not anticipated that she would be so caught-up in his tale, but something about what he was saying resonated within her and made her feel strangely welcomed. Like something in the way he was describing Bloomhen was… right.

-He told me she had a sickness. One that he did not know she would even recover from. It has no name, but it's very common in queens who lost their kits. Sometimes, in warriors who see violent battles, or in apprentices who struggle in their training. You catch it, he said, when you lose the will to live; it's like a smoke in your lungs, or a fire in your blood. A bit like poison. He said that horror and grief can make a cat more prone to catching the illness, and that without the right treatment, their lungs will continue to hurt from it until from sadness they will die.

Amberspots looked at Ravenwhisker, willing him to continue. She saw that he was expecting her to react. Panic, or cry, perhaps. But she felt no fear. Instead, she liked to hear about Bloomhen. Something in the tale made her feel strangely at home. Like Bloomhen had understood what Amberspots was going through. She felt happy - her brother, her best friend was putting into words how she had been feeling, and she felt a flash of giddiness at the thought that perhaps he would be able to help her.

She noticed that Ravenwhisker wasn't speaking anymore. She looked up, and saw that he was shaking. He seemed like he was barely holding himself together. He sighed and continued.

-He said that we would need to watch over her until she was better. So I visited her everyday, but it didn't get better. I thought that, when her kits died, she would grieve and everything would be over, but even after a moon, she was not showing any signs of recovery. I asked my mentor about it, told her about her sunken eyes and her harsh breath. He said that we would need to remove the smoke from her lungs, and to cool down her body: the sadness had stayed stuck in her lungs and would never go away unless we cleansed them. He gave me poultices and herbs to try on her, and we tried everything, until something seemed to work. Her eyes were brighter and her ears were cleaner. We thought that it was the sign that the smoke had been cleansed, and that her lungs were functioning properly. So we let her go with a bundle of poppy seeds for her grief, and she went back to her position in the warrior's den. I went to talk to her everyday still, to see that she had taken her poppy seeds and that she was doing well. She spoke to me, but there was something in her eyes…

He inhaled sharply.

-One day, Bloomhen disappeared, and we found her near the Thunderpath. We… we never knew for sure what had happened, but…

He looked at his sister with horror in his eyes.

-Our treatment didn't work. Our best guesses, our herbs - nothing. This sickness, it's deadly, it's beyond anything we know of so far. We have to get you better, and try to figure it out, I… I don't want to find you like this, too…

She stared at him for a moment. Sadness? Sadness isn't a sickness, it's just a wound, a battle scar - it's just the result of your mistake, it's something you have to deal with. It's not something dramatic. She remembered all the wounds she had gotten in combat, all the Clanmates she had had to carry, all the weight on her shoulders and the rhythm of battle beating in her chest. You just have to walk it off - pain in a battlefield means dead Clanmates. No time for fear, or for pain. You just toughen up. Sadness and fear, even sorrow, that was the life of a warrior. It wasn't something to cower away from, it was something to embrace and to fight. But, of course, he wouldn't know that - he was a medicine cat. He would never ask someone to fight pain when his duty was to cure it, and bless StarClan he would never have to know the feeling of repressing an emotion.

She locked eyes with him, feeling slightly dumbfounded at the raw emotion in his gaze. It made sense that he wasn't aware of how important it was to repress your emotions, and to fight pain with all your might. She was a warrior, he was a medicine cat. But still… He seemed so sure it was something to be afraid of, yet she felt the opposite. How can sadness make him feel so horrified? Since when is it something to worry about? But… I suppose he does. She saw something in his amber eyes, something soft and caring, grief for something he had not yet lost. She saw how afraid he was, how much he dreaded to see her corpse rotting away on the black rock, and it cooled down her irritation. Her gaze softened.

-You worry too much about me, she purred, flicking her tail over his ear in a reassuring gesture. You shouldn't. It's not -  
-Amberspots, he interrupted. This is important. You could die! I can help you if you let me! Please, I just want to try some poultices on you. It doesn't need to be anything big, just… Please? I - I can't lose you! Please?

He stood up and she followed, letting out a purr that was meant to be comforting. She wasn't scared at all. What he had described was normal. The pain, the sadness, the grief - all a part of her life for what felt like forever. Why should she be scared? She still had a few years to live, there was no need to press. But she saw how important it was to him that they found a solution, and as she followed him to his den, she had no idea how to let him down without making him worry. I'm not hurt. I've never been one to bow down - why should I? For some smoke? Or for some… sadness? There's no need for all this nonsense. I'll be fine in a few moons, I always am.

-Who's the warrior now? she teased as they entered the den. You've got quite an assertive side when you want to.  
-This is serious, he muttered, looking at his paws.

She worried she had upset him, but then he head-butted her, and under the strong scents of the berries and the leaves, she could smell his fear-scent. She felt a pang of compassion for her brother, and it turned to sadness as she heard small sobs coming from his muzzle. She buried her face in his shoulder, trying to comfort him (and herself, she would admit later), and as she felt him relax again, she chose to let her pride go and to let him help. I don't need help, but I'm doing it for him.

-Alright, you furball, she murmured, directing him to the stocks. Let's see your remedies.


	8. Scent of Fur

Amberspots nudged her brother affectionately as he followed her on the front of the den, his eyes clearer and less worried. He washed away a small leaf that had gotten itself stuck on his dark fur and relaxed, sitting down on the matted earth. She watched him distracted as she took a breath, chasing out the scents of herbs that seemed to have clung to her nose after all the time they had spent together studying the remedies they had in stock. It was not much; after all, she was used to spending much longer in the medicine cat's den, especially when - but enough of that. Amberspots wanted to get moving. She had nothing but respect for her brother's duty, but she hated to study herbs. The consciousness of her own necessity to be catered to left her feeling powerless and ashamed. She would have loved if fighting illness was a battle you could fight with your claws instead of with plants. If it was, she wouldn't have needed all of… this.

Yet as her gaze followed Ravenwhisker's black pelt as he slipped out of the den, she could only think of how strong and selfless her brother was. How he had not hesitated to help her and watch over her. How he was still devoting himself to his Clan to this day, how he was shining with health and strong with loyalty; even now he was making new remedies, new progress that would help all the next generations have a better life. The Clan could not ask for a better medicine cat. He's everything a cat should be. She sat down, as a soft feeling engulfed her, a feeling of calm and peace like she had not felt for a long time. Something about seeing her brother live such a fulfilled life made her feel content as well. As she watched apprentices stare after him with a bright gaze, and warriors dip their heads in greeting, she suddenly felt at place. It was the first time she fully noticed how much respect and trust her Clanmates had in their medicine cat, and the first time she felt for herself how powerful his presence was in the Clan. He was brave, kind, loyal; he wasn't a leader, but he would have had as much support and loyalty from his Clanmates still were conflict to arise. He was at the heart of the Clan, he supported it with all his power, and for seasons he had protected and cared to all the cats who lived within the Clan. He was a father, a leader, and a warrior; he was none of them just as he was all of them combined, and his role was far more important than giving herbs. He was someone reliable, a kind presence, the one cat who could make you feel at ease no matter the situation. His presence meant reassurance; his actions brought health; his face was that of concern and efficiency.

This was the true burden of being a medicine cat, for he was as much the leader as the leader themself. He had the heart of the Clan within his paws, he was its caretaker and most fearsome protector, and, as Amberspots found out, he was probably the best cat in it. Of course, he was her brother, so the praise made sense, but it was not entirely based on their bond that she found herself regarding him so highly. She found strange peace in him. His happiness was contagious, and his kindness was soothing. Sometimes, she even forgot that she was ill when she was with her brother; they would joke around like in their youth, teasing each other about their whiskers or their smell, racing around, cuffing each other on the face like kittens. Those were the rare times when she would feel truly happy. Like a bright spark had melted some of the ice inside of her, and was shining through her in purrs and laughter. It wouldn't last, and she would be still alone at the end of the day when she went back to her nest, but it was good while it lasted.

And to see her brother so happy made her feel more peaceful about passing on. It felt like she would not mind if she were to join to join StarClan today. It's not that she wanted to leave, of course, but in this instant, she found herself strangely at peace with it. Seeing Ravenwhisker fulfilled and useful made her think that as long as he was with the Clan, they would see no harm come to them, and that made her feel peaceful. She knew the Clan would be safe for as long as Ravenwhisker was there, and she did not need to watch over them anymore. Although the notion brought her a sense of security, it also worried her, for her brother was as old as she was, and would most likely not live to see more than one generation awaken. He was not too old, but she knew that he would have found himself in the elder's den in no more than a few greenleafs were he not a medicine cat. He would still serve his Clan for many years, but there was no denying his old age still.

Oh, Ravenwhisker, she whined internally, feeling like her chest was too tight for her fur. StarClan knows how much you mean to me. If you were to die soon, I don't know what I would do. The thought if losing her brother sent cold wind howling upon her face, and she lowered her gaze to avoid admitting how scared she was of the possibility. StarClan, if you're listening, I don't wish to die soon, but I beg of you to call me away before him. Please, let me welcome him to StarClan's hunting grounds. Let me see that he is well-welcomed when he arrives. She sighed and lowered her head. The sunlight spilled on the floor, glinting gold and copper on her eye fur and making her vision dim. She closed her eyes for a moment, before she felt the sunlight fade out, and she opened them again.

The view was breathtaking. Cats all around were busying themselves with their evening chores, silent and ethereal like small feathers, as the pale trees reflected the light of the sun with the crystals that hung low over the clearing, suspended from their slim branches. The air was cold and all traces of snowfall were gone from the sky; it was a cool gray, contrasting with the redeeming clouds that were forming near the horizon. The sun was hidden under a mass of dark clouds, sending crimson rays over it in a fight for dominance, but the sky was warm and colorful even with the battle that was happening in the faraway space. For once, Amberspots felt peaceful, and she enjoyed the view. Too long, she had denied herself the occasion, but now that she was an elder, simple pleasures became almost necessary to relieve the boredom. Or rather that's what she told herself. She would never admit that she just loved the colours of sunset enough to watch them so silently. Or that she desperately wished that warriors of StarClan would descend from the bright horizon and somehow soothe her pleading heart. But nothing happened.

She watched the fading lights slowly fade away, a soft breeze chilling her tail-tip and ruffling her whiskers. It felt distant to her, as all her attention was focused on the throbbing inside. She tried to smell the wind to catch the faint perfume of bark, but all she could smell was her own fear-scent laced with a familiar melancholy she wished nothing more than to lose. She let her attention roam freely as she struggled to stop the aching in her stomach and bravely ignored her will to let out a wail, until, eventually, she caught sight of Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail walking side by side by the fresh-kill pile: suddenly, it was like time had stopped. She could feel their mutual warm up the clearing around them and make it feel like they were the only ones in the world to them. Like a little bubble of warmth, the two padded to the pile and chose fresh-kill for their meal, as they murmured together with their heads close to one another's.

Amberspots watched them with her eyes glinting with a strange emotion that she did not know what to call. She could only grasp that she felt her heart ache in a bittersweet way, sending warm, burning flashes of heat ripple through her pelt with every beat. She was not sure if the feeling was positive or not. Something had awakened that felt strangely right, but at the same time, it felt as though she wanted to cry in despair at the sky. It's not fair, she found herself thinking. I can't have it, she added, feeling more and more confused with every passing second. Strange memories flashed through her, of warm eyes gazing at her, of a silent promise and unspoken wishes, of a name that she desperately wanted to call, a faraway yet familiar ragged, battle-scarred pelt she ached to run to and bury her muzzle in her tufts of creamy-white fur and to beg her to never let go. I can't have this, she wanted to yell. It's not fair. And as she realized she was standing up and preparing to walk the familiar path once again, the one that still smelled like fresh mud and morning breeze, she realized that she had to settle down before she made a fool of herself.

She managed to finally stop speaking nonsense after a few seconds of concentration and was left staring in shock at the ground, confused and dazed as to what in the world had come over her. This was unexpected. She had learned long ago to stop dwelling on feelings. Why did it suddenly come back? This is ridiculous. The time for this has long since gone, and it's time I stopped wishing. She looks back to Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail and gave a heavy sigh. She wasn't sure what the sight of them had awakened in her but it amazed and worried her all the same. Why could I not keep these feelings hidden? she rasped to herself, irritation working its way to her chest. I should have better degrees of self-control. I'm supposed to be a warrior! This is embarrassing...

She remembered too late that she was an elder. Luckily, it did not case her as it had before. She supposed she was getting used to it. That's one thing I'm getting used to, she added. She sighed, letting her head fall on her paws as she resumed watching the sunset. I thought I had gotten used to things… I had finally become able to forget about it. She shook her head and pretended it was fine. She was notice to back down from a fight, but this was just too much.

She was roused from her thoughts by the sudden appearance of two blue eyes staring intently into her own. Tigerstorm? She shook herself as a rabbit was pushed under her nose.

"I brought you dinner", Bluefeather meowed, as she timidely sat down next to her, her tortoiseshell fur spiked against the cold. "I thought you might be hungry."

Amberspots nodded, slightly dumbfounded but grateful nonetheless. She wondered for a minute why she had brought her a meal, before she remembered that elders usually had their food brought to them by other members of the Clan. It felt a little strange to be fed, but she was grateful for the attention. She bent down to take a bite, then, realizing how hungry she had been, she took another one, before she looked up at Bluefeather quizzically. The young molly looked back at her, unsure, then took a bite, too. As the young molly chewed, Amberspots eyed her curiously. Two visits in such a short amount of time. I wonder why she's acting so friendly. She looked over to where Fernpaw was sitting; the small apprentice was chatting with Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail around a few mice. Perhaps she didn't want to go eat with Fernpaw with Tigerstorm there, Amberspots thought sadly. I hope they -

"It's pretty cold today," Bluefeather meowed tentatively. "The river's frozen."  
"Hunting must have been hard," Amberspots offered with a wince.  
"It's good enough," the young molly answered. "How's Ravenwhisker?" she asked, taking a bite of the rabbit. "His herb stash must have been affected."

Amberspots remembered the day she had just spent with him, talking about the illness and studying the herbs together. The chat about Tigerstorm's date felt like a lifetime ago, yet it had been this morning. Talking so long made the day feel longer.

"He's searching for bark as we speak." She didn't know how to approach the subject without worrying the young warrior. Nobody likes to hear that medicine is running low, especially in leaf-bare when the other Clans won't be able to help if need be. She decided not to give too many details and settled for a softened version. "Leaf-bare's hard", she meowed. "But we've seen much worse."

Bluefeather eyed her curiously. Amberspots purred as she settled down more comfortably to begin her story.

"There was a great blizzard one year, back when I was a kit", she explained. "It wasn't an ordinary blizzard; the land froze, and snow fell so hard that even the river was covered in it. The camp was engulfed in it. There were snow puffs everywhere, and we could barely see with the blinding snow everywhere. No one could see where they were going, especially kits." She let out an amused purr. "My mother had to pull me out when I fell down in it the first day. She said I was more ice than cat when she fished me out!"

She took a moment to think of Breezetail, and of her soft tabby fur and her reassuring milky scent, before continuing.

"We had to move away from camp after the snow reached the dens. Nobody wanted to do it, but we had no choice if we wanted to survive until newleaf arrived. Graystar - that was the name of the leader before Coldstar - told us to take all the fresh-kill and the medicine supplies, and to go settle by Fourtrees. My mother took me in her jaws and brought me to Fourtrees with the others queens and their kits, but Ravenwhisker - well, he's always been a kind cat. He insisted on helping move the supplies", she reminisced proudly. "I reckon it was his help that allowed us to keep most of our supplies that year."

She stopped to take a few bites out of the rabbit. As she swallowed thoughtfully, she heard pawsteps near them, and saw a flash of ginger fur. Tigerstorm and Mushroomtail had joined their spot, and were listening quietly to the story. She let out a surprised purr as she saw them. I'm not used to my tales being so popular. Then again, I am an elder, she thought, amused. It must make my stories seem more interesting.

"We all settled down under an oak and waited", she continued, nodding to the two newcomers in acknowledgement. "It took half a moon for the blizzard to stop, but the snow didn't disappear until the next Gathering."

She shivered at the memory. "We barely had anything to eat, except a few frozen rabbits and the occasional bird that we managed to catch. It was hard to hunt, and dangerous, too. We never knew what we were stepping on, and each pawstep was a new danger. To drink, we licked frozen drops off the branches, and to sleep, we would huddle together to share warmth. The cold was unbearable in the night, and no cat was spared from having an ice-burned ear or two, but the warriors had it worse. They would sleep on the borders of the sleeping ground, to shelter the elders and the kits in the middle. The Clan lost some of its bravest warriors that year, and some of its most noble elders." She dipped her head in acknowledgement, and Bluefeather did the same.

Amberspots took a moment to think about her father, Stormcloud, who has given his life for the Clan. He had frozen himself shielding the elders from the wind. Breezetail had grieved him and had never taken another mate after him. Amberspots had been too young to understand, but she remembered the fear and the sorrow. She did not have many memories of him, but they were always good ones.

"Miraculously, there were no sicknesses that year, thank StarClan", she added more light-heartedly. "I think that was StarClan's way of protecting us. They never stopped watching over us, even during the blizzard. They can't do everything, but they showed us mercy when they had the power to."

Bluefeather nodded, taking it in. Amberspots took one last bite of the rabbit and focused on the taste of the chewy meat to distract herself from the memories she had awoken. Now that she had talked about it, she could remember her father's soft blue eyes, full of kindness even during the harsh lead-bare, and how cold his fur had been when she had curled up against him for the last time. She closed her eyes for an instant, wishing she had had the chance to spend more time with him, then sighed and looked at Bluefeather again, nodding for her to speak.

"What about the other Clans?" Tigerstorm asked in a whisper. "How did they cope?"  
"They lost many good cats", she answered. "But they managed to survive, just like we had, and at the next Gathering, everything was mostly back to normal."  
"Back to normal?" Bluefeather echoed. "Surely there must have been some sort of ceremony, or truce, to ease the Clans into recovery?"

Amberspots thought for a moment about what the young warrior was saying. Of course not, she thought to herself. If the Clans survive, there is no use talking about it. Why should we dwell on it? It's done, and there is nothing more to say. Life goes on.

"We moved on", the old warrior said slowly. "The Clan was safe, and we did not need their help, so we had no use bringing it up. We did speak of our fallen", she added, trying to reassure her. "They had all the respect they deserved."

She was ready to answer Mushroomtail's question, but Bluefeather interrupted, her eyes alight with some sort of anxiety.

"But…" The tortoiseshell stammered as though she didn't know how to explain. "Was there not a ceremony? An acknowledgement of the pain the Clans had gone through? Surely you were not over it already?"

Amberspots blinked. Her words hit too close to home to her liking.

"We had already gone through the blizzard," Amberspots said, confused. "We didn't need more help."  
"I meant… did you just… move on? Just like that?"  
"The Clan was strong", Tigerstorm intervened. "We weren't left unscathed, but we survived. We were strong enough to recover quickly -"  
"Tigerstorm, be sensible!" Bluefeather snapped suddenly. "Amberspots lost her father in the blizzard! That's not something a cat can instantly recover from!"

Tigerstorm opened her eyes wide, stunned to silence.

"That's not what I-" she started.  
"When you lose a friend, it takes moons to feel happy again", Bluefeather hissed, ignoring her attempt at explaining herself. "She couldn't just walk it off. She needed time to process it like any sane cat would. It hurts and, sometimes, it feels like you will never get through it. And when you talk about it, it feels better", she explained coldly. "When you take time to remember the events, it feels good. It feels peaceful. You can come to terms with it. It feels nice to know that the dead are still remembered, and that cats acknowledge your grief. I can't understand how the Clan would be ready to move on so early from the blizzard that took so many lives - especially without some form of commemoration. Especially when they lost their loved ones. So I ask: were they not sad? Did it not strike them? Was there no story told to remember them?"

Bluefeather swallowed hard and looked at Amberspots through her whiskers. Something in her eyes was hard and accusing.

"Did it not deserve some words?" she said quietly. "A period of grief? Was it not important?"

"It was", Amberspots assured, but something was telling her that the warrior was talking about something else entirely, something she was not sure she could follow. "The Clan had a funeral for every fallen cat and a vigil was held in their honor", she added, feeling something in her heart tugging painfully. "They were not forgotten."  
"I know, but… not like this. Not so soon." She shot a look at Tigerstorm, her eyes icy, and it was clear that she was no longer talking to Amberspots, but to Tigerstorm instead. "There's no more knowledge of the blizzard. How can the Clan properly make peace if there is no more talk about the events? Some cats like to talk about their loved ones when grieving."

The molly was glaring daggers at her sister, who seemed crestfallen. Bluefeather's voice was rumbling with anger, with a barely-hidden pain that she was trying to repress with a clench of her shoulders.

"Bluefeather-"

And suddenly, Bluefeather snapped.

"Did you not care enough to grieve her? Twilightpaw was the sweetest, kindest, bravest cat I've ever known, and I won't let you stomp on her memory like she was nothing! She was so much more than that! She was my love," she hissed in quiet fury. "She was my light, my everything, and she meant the world to me. And she couldn't even get a proper goodbye from you! She was your friend, Tigerstorm! Your friend! Why did you pretend that she had never existed? How could you give up on your memories like it was nothing? You were destroyed at her funeral, I saw you - why couldn't you just talk about her? I was grieving - we could have grieved together!"

She drew in a sharp breath, looking back at Tigerstorm with pain in her eyes, as she let out a sob, a heartwrenching sound that rumbled deep in her stomach. Then her anger faded and gave way to desperation. The pain in her eyes was jarring, so far away from the cool, quiet molly that sat with her friends and watched the stars every night. This was a scarred warrior, one who had seen death.

"How could you just forget her? It's been six moons, Tigerstorm! I thought she was your friend!"  
"I didn't forget her", Tigerstorm rasped. "I just don't want to talk about it anymore!"  
"Like that's possible", Bluefeather hissed under her breath.

Tigerstorm glared at her, but the warrior had already dipped her head to Amberspots and Mushroomtail in goodbye and was stalking away.

The ginger molly dipped her head in anger. When she looked back up at her friends, her gaze had changed to one of acceptance.

"This is progress", she meowed tentatively. "I guess she's talking to me, even if it's harsh and unpleasant. And irritating. And… and real."

She let out a frustrated growl, shuffling closer to Mushroomtail.

"I'm happy she's open with me, but… not like this", she muttered. "She wouldn't even listen… if only she would let me speak for one second..."  
"Give her time", Mushroomtail suggested, nudging her soothingly. "She's harsh, but she's not mean. She's… she's grieving."

Tigerstorm nodded, and sunk deep into silence, her eyes pained at the mention of Twilightpaw, the apprentice with the big purple eyes full of mischief, a troublemaker and an adventure-seeker, a little kit in heart. She had never stopped messing with the others,which was why she had been Amberspots' apprentice.

"I miss her," the young molly whispered, pressing against Mushroomtail, her voice small and uncertain.

Amberspots felt her heart squeeze. She remembered her playful eyes, bright and stubborn, and her small figure puffed up in indignation. She remembered the times she had to punish her for her recklessness, and how she had sulked all the way to the elder's den, her little eyes alight with irritation. She remembered that she would always eventually go and join the apprentice, and she would help her remove the soiled bedding and place the new one, and as she thought of how the young molly had begun to like the unpopular task and see caring for the elders as more of a normal part of training than a chore for punished warriors, she thought with a pang of everything she had been teaching her, and of how much she had been looking forward to showing her everything the forest had to offer. Highstones, the Gathering, border patrol, hunting at Snakerocks… She would never see those places, except maybe from the skies above. She would never receive her warrior name, or have kits, or grow old.

Would Amberspots ever forgive herself for it?

"I'll… give her time," Tigerstorm conceded, snapping Amberspots back to reality.

The old cat guessed that she had spaced out for a few minutes. Already, the two warriors were preparing to leave. Amberspots touched her nose to Tigerstorm's ear, then to Mushroomtail's, fee!ing more old and frail than ever before. She watched them walk away, feeling cold drift through her bones as her bald spots seemed to expand considerably, and her joints felt worse than ever. She felt weary. For a second, she considered going for a walk in the forest and getting lost under a tree, falling asleep under a bundle of roots and waiting until the C!an found her - or didn't, which was also a pleasant possibility - but she remembered her promise to Ravenwhisker. I said I would test poultices with him, she thought. I can't let him down. So she padded to her nest and dropped in it, letting the sheer exhaustion wash over her and chase the sorrow with a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HTML? What's that?
> 
> (Thanks to all you guys for your support, it means a lot! Thanks for the lovely commentaries, the precious kudos and all the anonymous guests who passed by and read some of my work! It means a lot to me that you'd appreciate my work, and I really hope you're having a good time, here and in your life in general. I hope you guys are all good and happy on the other side of your screen, and if not, that I'm sending you good vibes from my own side of it)


	9. Forgotten Eyes

Amberspots woke from her sleep with a vision of her brother's amber eyes clinging in the darkness, and with her ears echoing with his voice saying in an uncharacteristic stern voice to not let him down. She stood up, shaking, and thought for a moment of doing something to apologize. Perhaps if she fetched some herbs for him - then she breathed in and finally shook off the ridiculous fear that had taken ahold of her, to snap back in reality, where her brother was probably asleep and happy as usual, if not a little worried for his Clanmates as any good medicine cat was. He was probably dreaming of remedies or having nightmares about being summoned to the leader's den and scolded for messing up, like he used to dream about when he was younger and had taken on the burden of being sole medicine cat for the first time. Old Mudfrost had died when his apprentice was still fairly young and had just received his new name, and despite his reassurances that he would be amazing, just like he was, Ravenwhisker had constantly feared a day where he would screw up and create an illness by mixing up the wrong herbs together. Amberspots (still Amberpaw back then) had tried her best to reassure him, but in the end, only time has done any lasting effect, and he had eventually become able to purr and be merry.

He has changed, but he's still the same way at heart. He was still nervous whenever he tried new remedies, though it was not a bad thing, of course. Even the best warriors were afraid before battle, and they only had to worry about their own safety, whereas Ravenwhisker had much deeper and long lasting worries on his mind. He must feel pretty stressed-out. I wish i could help. With that in mind, she stretched out and walked out of the den, determined to help him as much as she could today. I'll find the herbs he's missing and bring them to him so he can start planning the treatment, she thought resolutely.

She padded in the direction of the fresh-kill pile and took out a mole. She shot a glance towards the warrior's den as she passed it, wondering if Bluefeather and Tigerstorm were still fighting. Yesterday's conversation floated back to memory: their talk about the blizzard, the questions regarding the Clan's customs in times of hardship, then Bluefeather's outburst and her eyes, white-hot with grief, as she accused Tigerstorm of having forgotten Twilightpaw. Tigerstorm's surprise, her bitter and angry comments after her sister had stalked away to her nest. Amberspots' exhausting walk back to her den. Her nightmares about her brother holding the same grudge against her, her own misery at the thought of making him so upset.

She sat down near the elders' den and took a bite out of the mole, savoring its musky flavor on her tongue. She had not eaten mole in a while. Or eaten anything at all, really. She wondered why she was suddenly feeling so up to it. Her sleep had been awful, and yesterday's conversation was still fresh in her mind, giving today a gloomy feeling to it. Nothing seemed to have given her such inspiration. She frowned, confused. Something stinging was blooming in her chest, as though she had eaten grass and her stomach was howling angrily at her. She would have preferred it to be grass, because however disgusting it would be, she could simply vomit it and be done with the pain. Now, she had no other option than to think. No escape from whatever was troubling her.

She decided to confront it, hoping it would go away sooner, and forced herself to register the pain. It felt strange. It was not painful in the same way sadness or hurt was, it was more of an frustration, a bitterness. It was somewhat easy to swallow, as it was laced with some sort of comfort, or happiness, but at the same time, she dreaded to accept it. Something… something felt wrong. Something about her resolve and her sudden determination made her want to recoil in despair. Which was utterly ridiculous. Why in the world would I want to stop feeling happy? Is this not what Ravenwhisker wants? And what I want? I don't know if this is happiness, but it's still progress. I got up and ate on my own, and I made plans for today. How is this not recovery? And how is it so scary? Do I not want to recover? Does that make me dishonorable?

She shook her head and gulped down the last of the mole, setting her worries to the side. She had other things - better things - to do today than thinking. She got to her paws and gave herself a wash, before walking in the direction of Ravenwhisker's den, hoping to catch him before his duties took over.

But instead of finding the den silent and alone, she was surprised to hear a mew coming from the entrance to his den, and caught sight of a red and black pelt bristling in the wind behind the wall. Is this Tigerstorm? she wondered, squinting her eyes at the cat. Tigerstorm's pelt was ginger with dark stripes, making it unlikely, but Amberspots could barely see anything under the strong light the sun was making. It could be her, she thought. Maybe the shadow makes her pelt look darker.

But as she finally reached it, she saw that it was Bluefeather who was talking in hushed mews with the medicine cat. What is she doing here?

"Is there not something you can do?" Bluefeather was asking, her voice anxious.  
"Have faith in StarClan", Ravenwhisker answered. "We will find something."  
"There's nothing you haven't already tried that can do something! You have to let me try! I know where it is, I can find it! I can do it!"  
"Bluepaw, you can't. It's not possible."

'Bluepaw'? How is this… how is she Bluepaw again?

Ravenwhisker's voice was categorical, but not without empathy. "This miracle cure doesn't exist", he said slowly, resigned. "We cannot do anything, but wait. StarClan will show us the right way, in time. Amberspots will come back with what we need, and we will make what we can with it. There is nothing more we can do."

Bluepaw's face was desperate, angry. "You can't do anything!" she cried. "My best friend is going to die, and you can't do anything!"  
"Amberspots is going to find it", Ravenwhisker said confidently, his pelt shimmering near the entrance. "You must trust her."

Bluepaw was pacing the matted soil, hardened by the heat and the strengths of the sunshine. She stormed out of the den, her gray feet dragging on the earth under her, making puffs of dust rise around her. It's greenleaf. That's not right. Horror dawned on her like the strongest of waves. What if I'm hallucinating all of this? Is any of this real? Amberspots had a spur of inspiration: she tried to make herself float, and when it worked, it became clear that none of this was real. This is just a dream. At ease, you ridiculous furball. She laughed at herself, taken aback at the absurdity of it. I sure am glad not to be hallucinating. If "glad" is even the right word. Why am I thinking about this? Not that I'm not happy to dream about happier times, she corrected. It is good to have a good rest. How often had she had the opportunity to sleep without being plagued by nightmares? Not often, at least, not for a long, long time.

"Stop that!" Bluepaw hissed, turning away from Ravenwhisker. "Stop finding excuses! You're just incapable of finding the cure, don't pretend otherwise! You're weak, and a coward!"  
"Bluepaw, you know I'm doing everything in my power to cure her."  
"You're not even letting me go fetch the herb that could cure her! You're a coward, Ravenwhisker! A coward, and a fool!" she spat, almost drooling with venom. "You can't even -"

A gulp, a sharp intake of air. Ravenwhisker turned to a soggy mess of moss and tabby fur, his eyes alert. It had moved. Someone is in there, Amberspots thought. They look wounded. Is this after the battle for Sunningrocks? It could be Timberhawk, or Mosspaw. Though Bluepaw was too young to have been a medicine cat apprentice then. She had been four or five moons during the battle. Perhaps I'm miscalculating, she guessed. She might have -

"Bluepaw, she's awake."

Ravenwhisker's pelt brushed against the cold walls, to reach the nest that patients used, where a small cat was laying on its flank, its skin bare and oozing with pus. Its nose was clogged, and its breathing was strained, until Bluepaw softly brushed aside the fluids.

"Hey, furball" she greeted the cat, settling near it in a shimmy of fur.

She kept washing its nose without even a hint of disgust, her eyes strained but fond.

"Ravenwhisker's getting you water. We also have some food if you're hungry."  
"Bluepaw," the cat rasped, its voice hoarse and disoriented. "Where am I? What's going on?"

What was left of the small cat's brown fur rippled anxiously as the patient rolled over to face the young molly, whose gaze had not strayed away even once since the cat had awakened.

"We're in the medicine den," Bluepaw explained.  
"Where's Mo - where's Amberspots?"

Amberspots' chest swelled with uncontrollable pain at the word. This was about eight moons ago, the day when… This can't be a memory. I was not there that day. Something is wrong. This is too… it's too real. She walked to Twilightpaw and pressed her nose against the small molly's shoulder fur, trying to reassure her, but she faded through the brown stripes. She could only stare in resigned helplessness as she watched her skinny apprentice shrivel and whine. Oh, StarClan, please, no...

"Where's Amberspots?" Twilightpaw asked again, her meow small with fear.  
"She's gone to search for your remedy", Bluepaw answered, trying to be joyous.

It didn't work - instead, it seemed to make her feel even worse. Twilightpaw's eyes lit up in despair. She struggled to get to her paws, and when Bluepaw stopped her, she could only trash weakly against her friend, whining meows of "No, please… no…" and staring at Bluepaw in agony. She gurgled in frustration.

"I need to see her, I need to! I need to see her -"  
"She won't be gone for long. You'll see her soon, you'll see. She'll find the herbs to cure you, and we'll have a poultice done in no time. You'll be back on your legs before you can say mouse," Bluepaw meowed with forced cheerfulness.

Twilightpaw stared up at her companion. Then she exhaled; a slow, pained sound. In her eyes, there was a sudden look of calm.

"You don't believe that, do you?" she asked softly. "You don't believe I can be cured."

Bluepaw answered nothing, only begun washing her friend's pelt with calm, soothing licks.

"You'll -"

Bluepaw was cut by Ravenwhisker's arrival. He gave the patient a moss ball that dripped over the nest as it rolled over to Twilightpaw's muzzle. She drank it hungrily, and asked for another. Ravenwhisker nodded to Bluepaw, but she glared at him.

"I won't leave her side," she protested.  
"It'll only be for a few minutes. And I have to examine her," Ravenwhisker meowed, softly but firmly.

Reluctantly, she moved to the side, and tore her gaze away from Twilightpaw as she exited the den. She passed through Amberspots' transparent form, and the elder, after a moment of shock, told herself that it was normal. After all, she wasn't really there. She had been on the moor that day. She had a sudden flash of her own wild running through the herbs that bordered Clan territory, her frantic digging and sniffing around for anything that would be of any value. She worried for an instant that her dream would cut there, and that she would follow her own past self as she searched through the long grass for the rare herb. Luckily, something in her mind must have wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, because, unlike most of her dreams, where time was relative and she could do what she wanted to do and nobody would care, this dream kept going even when her mind was elsewhere. It did not fade away, so she kept still to listen to it.

Bluepaw was back with a ball of moss in her jaws, and she carried it to the den without a word to her concerned Clanmates that waited anxiously outside the den.

"Water", she meowed to Ravenwhisker, setting down the ball next to her mentor.

She plopped down next to the nest and resumed her washing. She licked away the pus without a care in the world for the risks of infection her actions had, her eyes focused on Twilightpaw's. The apprentice seemed to relax, and soon, her breathing deepened. Amberspots thought she was sleeping, but Ravenwhisker's shocked face told her otherwise. The medicine cat nudged Bluepaw away from the apprentice, his eyes dark.

"Don't", the medicine cat whispered. "You could -"  
"She needs washing. Do you have a better idea?" snapped Bluepaw.

The medicine cat gently guided her a few tail-lenghts away from their patient. Bluepaw glared daggers at him. She shook herself free as soon as they were far enough away from the apprentice and turned to face him, her fur bristling.

"You're so sure this will work that you're not even concerned about hurrying update p", she accused. "She's dying, and you're not even the slightest bit concerned" she hissed. "Can't you hurry up more? I'm the only one who's doing something useful, and you can't even acknowledge that! You're just sitting here, doing nothing! What is wrong with you?"

Ravenwhisker sighed.

"Bluepaw," he meowed softly, his eyes full of understanding. "I'm sorry. Her state is worsening, and there is nothing more I can do but make her comfortable."  
"What do you mean? You said she was fine!"

Her shocked mew quickly turned to anger.

"You said Amberspots would come back in time!" Bluepaw screeched in betrayal. "You said we would save her!"

Her voice was no more than a harsh whisper, but all the emotion of a full-blown yowl was there.

"I'm sorry, Bluepaw. It's out of my paws."  
"That still doesn't mean you should give up!" growled Bluepaw.  
"Bluepaw, there is nothing we can do. We must let her go."  
"I can't turn my back on a Clanmate!" Bluepaw yowled in horror. "What do you want me to do, let her die?"  
"Bluepaw, I understand your pain, but you must know that I did everything I could for her. She was my Clanmate, too."

She looked into Ravenwhisker's pained eyes and her anger died down to give way to quiet desperation. She nodded, but her eyes were still clouded with grief. She spoke again in a small whisper.

"Then maybe I shouldn't be a medicine cat, because I could never see another one of my Clanmates die like this."  
"Bluepaw, are -"  
"RAVENWHISKER! I'M HERE! BLUEPAW!"

Amberspots heard her own voice ring out in the clearing, and she saw a molly dart from the entrance to the camp, to the medicine den. The cat ran, her legs powerful and lean, her fur dense and silky. She recognized the way the warrior's hind leg was flexing strangely, as though part of the launches were a piece of wood and not flesh and bone. The experience was eerie. This was her.

"I have the herb! I have it! Here! You can give it to her!" the younger Amberspots stammered, out of breath, as she spat a plant (roots and all) at the feet of the two medicine cats.

She seemed both desperate and gleeful, and her eyes were glinting with all the might of a starry sky. She remembered what she had been thinking of, in that split-second before the unthinkable happened. If I give them the herb, everything will be fine. Twilightpaw will be cured, and everything will be back to normal. We'll go training in a moon, and she'll try to fool me into going on her own, but I'll see it coming and I'll catch her, she'll sulk, but then she'll brighten up at the perspective of training.

But neither Ravenwhisker nor Bluepaw had made a move.

"Amberspots…" Ravenwhisker emitted. "It's too late."  
"What?" the warrior shot out, taken aback by his serious tone.  
Bluepaw looked up at the molly, her eyes clouded, and whispered: "She's… she's not going to make it. You… we have to say goodbye."  
"But I have the herb, it doesn't… what do you mean?"

Amberspots stared in confusion. Her brother gently guided her to Twilightpaw's nest, where the apprentice was asleep, laying in a relative peace in a tight ball. She choked back on her words and rested her head near the apprentice's shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"Twilightpaw?" she murmured. "Twilightpaw, can you hear me?" She let out a shaky breath. "Twilightpaw, it's Amberspots - it's… it's Mom. I'm here."

I never called myself Mom to her. But that day...

"Mom?" Twilightpaw meowed, unsure.

Then she opened her eyes and her face brightened.

"Mom! Mom, you're here", the apprentice rasped. "I was worried you wouldn't come see me before I left", she breathed, and in her clogged-up throat, there was the hint of a purr.  
"I'm sorry", Amberspots choked out. "I know I'm late."  
"Always are," Twilightpaw let out, her eyes bright with humour, and Amberspots had to force herself to let out a purr. "Always late… for training. And… you... make me... do all these… chores instead. For… killing time… compensate. And… there's no chores in StarClan," she joked. "I'm beating you… this time."

The young cat sighed and rested her head on Amberspots' shoulder.

"I should have been a better mentor," Amberspots meowed.  
"No… mind. Is it scary... to go?" she murmured.

Amberspots touched her muzzle to her ear. How could I answer this question?

"It's going to be alright, I'm sure of it," she promised. "You'll see your Mother again. And I won't leave you, I promise."  
"But I…"

She breathed in, but didn't finish her sentence.

Amberspots woke up in cold sweat and with the scream she had been about to give still on her lips. She panted, looking around; at the fresh-kill pile, at the dens, at the last strips of mole that were still laying between her paws. She curled up on herself, shaking with horror, the last parts of the dream playing over and over and over, then got up to her paws and set the meal aside, choosing to go back to her den. Her plans did not matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the whimper of her apprentice, and the fear-scent that had flashed from her pelt before she had stopped moving forever.

She rolled up in her nest, trying to breathe again, and failing. Because why did that matter if she breathed? She had no right to breathe when her apprentice had died by her fault.

She closed her eyes and refused to get up again for the rest of the day.


	10. Green Leaves

Amberspots was watching the ceiling, had been for at least three patrols's time. She had no motivation whatsoever to move. No willingness to do anything.

She hoped against all odds that the ache in her mind would fade away by itself if she gave it enough time, but she knew it would not. This wasn't how feelings worked. I have to keep moving and to accept them if I want them to stop hurting. Yet she couldn't.

In her mind, the only thing that she could picture was Twilightpaw. Their moons of training, their occasional head-butting. Her familiar little silhouette next to her, her chipper voice asking about the next training session and the weird smells of the other Clans. The horrible moments before her death, filled with pain and anguish. How she wished she had been in her place, and faced the abyss instead of her. She would have given anything to not have had to see her tiny apprentice die between her paws. No kit deserved this fate. She had been too young, too innocent, too precious to die. And yet she had.

It had been her fault. She had been too late, and she hadn't been able to stop it. She had found the plant too late. She had run too slow. She hadn't been strong enough, and now, because of her, Twilightpaw, her only apprentice, was dead. And she would never come back, she would never tell her that joke she had been meaning to, she would never be able to jump all the way up the cliff like she had always dreamed of, she would never tell Bluepaw she loved her and become her mate and have kits with her like she would pray aloud to StarClan when training was done and she was left to think alone.

At least she would see her mother, but how much did that weight against all the things she could have done down there? It didn't make it okay, didn't make it good. She didn't even feel relieved. She would have seen her mother anyways, and would have had so many more things to tell her about if she had lived longer, too.

But this line of thought lead her nowhere near closure. Nothing really did, anyways.

She sighed. Something like guilt pressed down on her pelt and made her feel like she was being burned. I thought I was getting better. For a few seconds, she had had drive and motivation. She had felt hopeful. And then she had fallen asleep - if that's what even happened. She didn't even remember closing her eyes. She had been lost in thought, and lost track of the time. Perhaps she had been so distracted she hadn't seen the sleep coming. Maybe the mole had played a role in it, too. She had eaten one right before leaving for the remedy. It might have caused her memories to flood back she really had not stood a chance after Bluefeather's outburst, two days ago.

It was not familiar, though. She hadn't been there when it had happened. Either StarClan's messing with my destiny, or I'm hallucinating. She supposed she should ask Ravenwhisker or Bluefeather for it, but she felt too tired for it. She did not really take that last fact seriously, though. She was used to ignoring her body's wishes. Battle was way harder to get up from than some stupid sadness. StarClan permit, she still had some sort of warrior spirit left in her!

Her decision made, she heaved herself to her paws and, after breathing deeply through her dry nose, lapped at a poppy seed to ease the trembling in her paws. It did not count as food, but at least it would give her some sort of energy for the conversation she was about to have.

She padded slowly to the entrance to the medicine den, her head heavy on her shoulders. What would she say? Ravenwhisker would be so disappointed. What would he think about his sister? He was so proud when I was made a warrior. He said I was the best in the Clan and that I would shine brighter than the Sun on a cloudless day. He looked so happy… how can I let him down? I can't tell him how I feel, he'll -

Then she heard a molly's voice and froze.

"Is there not something you can do?"

Oh no.

"Have faith in StarClan", Ravenwhisker's voice meowed back. "We will find something."

She fought the urge to yowl. Oh, StarClan, not again! She buried her head in her paws, trying to bring herself back to her senses. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. This is just a dream. I'll wake up.

"Perhaps if we try honey and coltsfoot? Wrapped in a bundle of beech leaves?"  
"I doubt coltsfoot would do much good, but…"

The voices trailed off as the two cats presumably left for the stockpile.

Thank StarClan.

Amberspots was left standing outside of the den, her head numb with relief. She did not know what she would have done were she in some kind of never-ending nightmare, or what kind of craziness it would have been that would have taken ahold of her, but she preferred not to dwell on it. She was still sane. Mostly. Partly. A little bit.

After yesterday, she didn't know anymore.

All the more reasons to go see Ravenwhisker, she decided, before entering. The smell of herbs engulfed her, sticking to her pelt like persistent leeches. She sat down at her usual spot near the entrance and started washing herself to pass the time. She couldn't help but glance around, noting down things that seemed logical to make sure she wasn't trapped in a strange dream. But everything seemed to be in order. Maybe the other cat is a fellow medicine cat seeking advice, or a youngster that wants to know about remedies.

Time passed and passed, or so it seemed. Amberspots was bored, and with boredom came the dark, strange thoughts that she hated, and she thought that Ravenwhisker could not come back soon enough. She decided to inspect her pads, and saw that their condition had greatly improved. No more of the cracks that had tortured her since the start of leaf-bare. They're getting better. I can't say the same about myself, she added somberly. Sometimes I worry I'll never get better. Why did I have to be such a mouse-brain and sabotage whatever morsel of happiness I had? she raspes inwardly, thinking about how strange it had felt to be motivated again. Sometimes, it feels like I don't want to get better. Then she thought for a while about her last sentence. Do I want to get better? she asked herself. I know Ravenwhisker does, but what about me? How do I feel about it?

She snarled. Not that it makes any difference. I'll be forced to act the same anyways. I'll take the same steps and be asked the same things. I'll have highs and lows. She corrected herself: her Clanmates would still be just as genuine and caring, regardless of how she felt about recovery. It was how she would perceive things that would change. Their help would feel either like a nursing mother encouraging her and soothing her sadness, or like a harsh mentor pushing her beyond her limits and leaving her exhausted and discoutaged afterwards. And that would make all the difference between happiness or discomfort, between recovery and worsening. Is it wrong to say I don't want to recover? she thought. It's not so bad sometimes. There are times when it feels almost soothing. When I'm chatting with Tigerstorm, or spending time with Ravenwhisker, this… smoke illness... doesn't feel bad. It feels like spending time with them would feel less good if I were healed. That's nonsense, but I can't help but think it. Good feelings during sickness only get better when healed, and recovery in itself is… well, is supposed to be good.

She laughed at herself. It's lucky I'm not deputy anymore, because I'm setting a very bad example for others right now. Not wanting to recover is really not a winning attitude. What kind of message would I even be sending if I were saying this out loud? She imagined inadvertently causing death by promoting the message that recovery is bad, and pictured cats dying of curable ilnesses because being healthy makes you feel worse and shuddered. While it was wrong and horrifying, she couldn't help but find the scenario somewhat amusing. Not the death - her own failure as deputy. The Clan is lucky I stepped down. She thought of the silver tabby that had taken her place, feeling both proud and dejected. Moon-eye really was a good choice. No cat can doubt her courage and her loyalty.

She looked away from the stocks. Something inside was aching. I feel old, she thought uselessly. I can't do anything about it, so I shouldn't bother. But I still am. And I really should show some courage and face it, but…

She realised that she was dozing off when she noticed that her body had become heavy and nearly immovable. She tried to get to her paws, but a gentle nudge on her shoulder stopped her from moving.

"You can stay here," said a gentle voice. "I'll make you a nest and fetch you some water while you rest."

She recognized the molly's golden pelt: Fernpaw, the soft-spoken apprentice that had somehow managed to befriend both Tigerstorm and Bluefeather at the same time and not get caught in the middle of a single fight. Where's Ravenwhisker? Amberspots thought. As much as she appreciated Fernpaw's kindness, she wasn't her brother. Or a medicine cat.

Except if she was. Perhaps she was seeing a future where Fernpaw - Fernsomething - had become medicine cat. Perhaps she was stuck in a nightmare, and this was another scene of disaster. Worst of all, perhaps her brother wasn't even there. She moaned in despair. Why this? Why me? I'm too old for this nonsense! She let out a sob, feeling utterly defeated. Why can't I see my brother? Why are you doing to to me, StarClan? Choose another cat for your stupid prophecies! I just want some poppy seeds and a good night's sleep!

Then she smelled the familiar pelt and tensed.

"Ravenwhisker?" she let out, uncertain.  
"What's wrong? You're crying!" came back the voice of her brother. "Is something hurting?"

She let herself relax, but she may have relaxed too much, because she felt her spirit drift far, far away, somewhere between sleep and awareness.

"I just had the weirdest dream", she started.

Every word was a pain, a heavy burden that she had to carry all the way to her throat and heave off her lips. The effort was awfully tiring - so ridiculously tiring, in fact, that she wondered if she was fainting. Then she realized she was falling asleep.

"Can we… can we stop talking? Please", she said incoherently. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

Ravenwhisker pressed something to her sides, and she registered it was moss. A nest.

"Of course", he said soothingly. "We'll talk tomorrow."

She vaguely heard Fernpaw's quiet voice talking in whispers with him, as they dabbed more moss to her sides. She smelled water and remembered that Fernpaw had said she was getting her a drink before she had left. That's nice. She kept her word. I like that.

Then she drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rework on some parts of the story, since I found some plot holes while rereading it. Major thing to say about it is that Mushroomtail is now called Beavertail. Also, fun fact: Fernpaw is the apprentice we saw cuddling with Tigerstorm at the start of Chapter One. She wasn't mentioned, but it was said that two apprentices, one ginger and the other gold, were snuggling and chatting together in the clearing. That's them!
> 
> Another thing to mention for continuity's sake is that Bluefeather and Tigerstorm are older than the other apprentices. Bluefeather left the medicine cat path to become a warrior, and Tigerstorm decided to wait for her so they would be warriors together. They are a few moons older than Fernpaw, which has only been recently made an apprentice. Beavertail is more or less in the same generation - he's a few seasons older than Tigerstorm.
> 
> Last thing - I changed Mushroomtail to Beavertail for my father's entertainment. The character was (very loosely) based on him and I thought he'd like having s character having a pun name. See, here in Québec, a beaver tail is also a sort of pastry, (queue de castor) and he would have loved to know his name was a pun. So here we go! And it makes tons of interesting life to delve into, besides being a nice lil touch, so it's a win-win. Hopefully that won't confuse you guys too much! If it does, no worries - I'm planning on reposting the story once it's finished, so the final product is the actual cleaned version without typos and stuff like that.
> 
> Have a good day/night! See you soon!


	11. Where We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small hiatus. I've put the writing on hold for a while due to some personal issues. Also, I tried to focus on my original work but I burned myself out. I'm trying to recover from both at the moment, so I've decided to put writing on hold for a few weeks and see from there if I feel okay to write again. I have some chapters written already so I'll post them, but I don't know if I'll be okay to keep posting right after that. I'll keep you updated, and honestly I hope to feel up to writing this soon because I really adore this story and the setting.

She woke up feeling like she had been crashed into by a monster. Every bone in her body was sore, and her mind was incredibly tired. The only thing she could muster the strength to think was how old she felt. This is stupid and horrible. Please, StarClan, get me away from here. I'm tired of being old. I'm tired of all of this. I don't want to fear how close death is anymore. I just wish I could be carefree like before. I wish I were young again.

She heard Fernpaw's soft voice, and felt her footsteps echo through the earth. She's so young. I envy her. How strong her muscles must be! How light her steps are! How easy her breathing seems to be! She wished she could go back to her body. Or, at least, go back and knock some sense into her young self. She clearly had never thought about how painful her body would become after so many years of reckless fighting. She had ruined her body, and she dearly wished she had shown more concern for herself. There was no glory in having bad bloodflow in her toes and bones that ached with every move, only shame and regret. She wished she me would have seen it sooner. Maybe she would have taken better care of herself.

But back then, it had only been a bother. Taking care of her body was annoying, and shameful. What would she look like if she couldn't even stand up fast? If she needed to stretch before training? If she had to take breaks when her pads hurt? This was all just a burden to her. But now, it did not feel annoying. It just felt… sad. She felt like she had broken her body, and it felt horrible, a bit like she had lost something dear to her.

Amberspots felt broken. Just… broken. There were so many things she used to do - so many things she should still be able to do that she couldn't do anymore. She used to run across the clearing, climb trees, jump from root to root. She used to be able to kick her opponents with her hind legs, and bite down hard on their limbs without letting go. She was so reckless that she thought that having your ears scratched open was something to be proud of. Now, it made her hear less and less by the day.

It felt like Amberspots - the real Amberspots, the one who could run and fight and hunt all day - was gone, and this was just a remnant of her real form. And it was her fault, was it not? If she had taken better care of herself, and if she had tried harder to stay fit, it would not have happened. She would have stayed fit, would have stayed young, until… well, until nothing. The kitlike reasoning was that, if she tried hard enough, she could fight off old age forever, but that did not make sense. It would mean that all the elders were not trying hard enough, were losers, were lazy. And that - that made no sense.

Some things just happen no matter what, she thought. Cats die, just like trees shed and flowers bloom. It's the will of StarClan. It's how things are.

Amberspots stayed in contemplation of the wall, lost in her thoughts, for a long while, caught in a comfortable daze, until the smell of rabbit reached her nose. She looked up and saw Ravenwhisker handing her her morning meal, registering at the last minute that the sun was slowly extending its rays on the clearing.

"What day is it?" she asked.

It felt like the days were going in a blur. She couldn't keep track of them anymore.

"It's half-moon", Ravenwhisker answered.

That must be why Fernpaw is here today. She must be learning how to cure basic wounds to cover for him when he leaves. That made sense. She bit down on the rabbit without further comments. It tasted very little, but it did not feel like ash, so she swallowed it anyways. Besides, she did not want to refuse a meal her brother had brought her. That would be impolite.

"How's your training coming along?" she asked mischievously, remembering that she used to ask him about it whenever he was preparing for the medicine cats' meeting.

Ravenwhisker gave a little purr.

"How's yours?" he asked in return.

She swatted him on the nose, feeling the hint of a good mood return to her.

"I'm the best warrior", she boasted. "I never make mistakes. And I definitely don't know anything about overexhaustion", she added.

She didn't know whether she was making a joke or venting out her bitterness. She decided to ignore her own attempt at humour and took another bite of the rabbit. It had invited to her that she was hungry. I didn't eat yesterday.

Ravenwhisker purred. "Well, I'm the best medicine cat. I never forget herbs. I can treat patients all day. Nothing gets past me."

Amberspots purred and he seemed happy to have made her laugh. Past the dark circles under his eyes, his gaze glowed.

"You look exhausted", she said as she pushed the rabbit for him to take a bite, but he shook his head.  
"All yours", he protested good-naturedly. "You don't want me to get fatter than I already am, do you?" he added.  
"Fat looks good on you", she argued half-jokingly, and he swatted her in return.

He does have the pelt for it. With a dark coat like his, he would never be mistaken for a kittypet, she thought as she eyed his jet-black fur that glowed silver when he moved. No kittypet had such an eerie color, she thought with pride. He looked like he had visited StarClan and was covered in stardust. She knew from what their mother had told them that their father had had the same coat, only with white paws on his. They probably had the same build, too, other than the layer of fat that Ravenwhisker had. They even shared the same amber gaze.

As much as she would have liked to say she herself looked like Breezetail, her mother had been black-and-white, her white spots looking like clouds on a starless night. She supposed they had shared a spotted pelt, but the similarities ended there. Her own markings were scattered and assymetrical, with none of the elegance that her mother had. She looked like a tree on fire, even moreso since she used to have a brown-ish color in her youth. Puberty made you catch on fire, elders used to say to tease her. The memory made her snicker.

She noted her jolt of happiness with a small hint of satisfaction. Perhaps I am in a good mood, after all.

"Excited for the meeting today?" she asked after a while.  
"Nervous", he corrected. "I'll ask the other medicine cats about the smoke infection. I just hope they know something about it. I'm sure they'll have something that can help us anyway", he added cheerfully. "Especially Pearlshade. She always has good ideas."

Amberspots shot him a teasing look.

"Someone's got a crush", she cooed.  
"Nonsense, I'm a good medicine cat and I don't give in to these feelings", he answered with fake outrage. "But, between me and you, my heart belongs to Graystar", he added with a wink.  
"He's been dead for decades", she protested with a purr, going along with the joke. "What would our Clanmates say if they knew their medicine cat was courting a cat - a leader at that - a dead one?"

She made a face at him, and he mimicked it back. Amberspots felt light, like something in her chest had been lifted. Joking around with her brother had always made her forget about her troubles.

"It doesn't go against the code if I'm not courting a living cat," he explained with an amused glint in his eyes.

Something in his voice felt oddly sincere, and she wondered if he was serious, but she had no time to ask, as he was already leaving, having been summoned by Fernpaw. She wished him luck, then decided to get out of the den as well. Perhaps she could still find him some herbs, after all. Maybe today won't be too bad.


	12. Slowly They Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance, this might be confusing to read. The italics don't work really well.

Today promised to be a hot day. The sun was glowing yellow, like a reminder of the warm days to come a few moons from now, a ray of hope to get them through the dawning leaf-bare. It was comforting. Last time I saw a sunny day like this, I was still a warrior. She shook her head at the bittersweet memory of what felt like forever ago. She remembered running through brown and red leaves, wind in her pelt and blood in her ears. Running through the forest. Hearing my Clanmates call after me, tell me to slow down. Not listening, because I had to get to the Thunderpath before they did. I had to see it for myself before they arrived and I had to compose myself.

The memory of a leaf-fall day, red with leaves and blood alike, sprang back to her mind. My mouth tasted foul. I couldn't even talk, I was paralyzed. I could see nothing else than the black-and-white pelt twisted in pain, the watery eyes, the shaking breath. I stayed with her until she took her last breath. Alone, isolated, far away from camp and from our Clanmates.

She kept walking. The memory was an old one. She was used to it.

I saw my mother's eyes blank out before me. Her eyes clouded with pain as she begged me to go on, to live, to have a happy life, a mate and kits and friends. Her final whispers for Ravenwhisker's ears to catch, full of love and tenderness for her son. Her last breath, soft and peaceful. Her cold pelt. Her soft paws. Her -

Amberspots covered her ears with her paws. Stop! Stop it! I don't want to remember! Please! She closed her eyes shut and waited for the vision to disappear. Can't you let me have these last years in peace? she howled internally, but the sky had no answer. I'm too old to spare time for this nonsense! Then it stopped.

The vision had been been swallowed by a deep tiredness. It felt like every time she tried to be productive, her mind played tricks on her, and she saw the worst things imaginable. The worst things was that she was incapable of stopping it, even for a moment.

She decided to be patient with herself, even if all her body was screaming at her in anguish. She had some experience with troubling thoughts, after all. Ah! My apprenticeship, she remembered with a somewhat nostalgic sigh. Horrible, horrible memory, really. I should not be so fond of it. She remembered the burden she had felt being placed upon her shoulders, the nagging fears and anxieties, the horrible waking nightmares in which something was hurting everyone she cared about and she could do nothing to stop it. She remembered how she had felt like she had been somehow responsible for everyone in the Clan, and how badly her mind had reacted. It had sent her the most horrible feelings of guilt, and some unbearable moments of powerlessness. She remembered feeling like even the most unimportant shake of a whisker in her part could destroy mountains, how the smallest fear could convince her war was coming.

Something had snapped. I was unable to see how peaceful life was. I could only see possibilities of horror, and it felt like every one of them was on the brink of being real. I felt like I needed to stop it, but it never worked - because how could it work? It was never even a risk, it was only a fear. I was battling against a feeling - and feelings, it turns out, are the most fearsome enemies. I could never win. I could only seek deeper and deeper into my own anguish. I told Mother only. She was the only one I trusted enough to tell about my fears. One of them included betrayal, or violence, and it had spared no cat in our Clan, except for my Mother. Whatever had been convincing me of imminent doom had never been able to reach my trust for her. I told her everything.

She spared a small purr. The memory felt warm and safe. A haven, a space that was far away from the twirling of her tortured soul.

She groomed me like when I was a kit. She didn't tell me I was crazy, or get angry at me for having entertained such treacherous thoughts. She said she was there with me, and we were safe; we could watch the storm in my head pass together. It made me feel better than anything any cat could have said. It felt grounding and reassuring. This simple moment stayed in my mind for the rest of my apprenticeship. It was my safe place.

It had gotten worse afterwards, though. Just after she was made a warrior, she had started to realize how defenseless her Clanmates really were. They could fight, of course, but illnesses, storms, floods, monsters… too many things could easily kill a cat, and she had been struck with it a mere days after she had been given her new name. Beechkit has a sprained ankle made her worry he had been in danger, with his habit of playing away from his mother's watch. What if he had been playing close to the patch of brambles? He could have been severely injured! Tigerkit is born but what if she cannot breathe properly? What if she gets stomped on and dies? She looks so small and pink, she could be sick - oh StarClan, is she sick? Is it contagious? What if it is? What can the Clan do, what could Amberspots do? Would she have to bring her deep into the forest to isolate her and cure her without risking her Clanmates' lives? Moonpaw went hunting, it could be dangerous. What if she fails to come back? What if she strays onto the Thunderpath and she dies? I hear Whitewhisker speaking to her mate, what if she's sick, and what she heard was actually the turtles of a dying cat? What if she's angry at Amberspots for being such an irritating, treacherous bundle of fur (which she would deserve, but she still dreaded it) and she's hissing and not talking? Coldstar is coughing. Was she okay? Was she safe? Should she go check on her? But what if she made the situation worse? She should stay quiet and not move a muscle.

And by "not a muscle", I really meant "not a muscle". No moving, no turning, no looking away. I would make myself as small as possible, as though that would stop whatever harm from reaching her. It felt like any movement on my part would provoke a catastrophe: a fire, a flood, a sickness. I felt like I was always in the brink of causing something awful, and it tore me apart. I had my suspicions that none of it was real, but the fears were so powerful that I did not dare oppose this curse I was sure had been placed upon me.

She sighed at the memories of her deep anguish, which had stooped low. So low, in fact, that she had considered leaving. She couldn't bear the fears anymore: they were ruining her life. I had to protect the Clan, and if the curse said I needed to stop eating, I stopped eating. If it said i needed to turn left, I turned left. If it said I had to say something, I said something. I could not stop, because it felt like StarClan itself was telling me to be still. I had to leave: it was the only way. She remembered she had brought it up to the cream-colored molly, who had stared at her with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"I'm scared I'm not a good influence to the Clan anymore", she had said with shame. "I ask that you give me the permission to go to the edge of the forest and stay there forever."  
"Amberspots, what do you mean?" the leader had said.

And, in that moment, she had known that she has been ridiculous. All of this had been a nightmare. None of it was real. She had been thoroughly ashamed: had she really disturbed the leader of the Clan for such a stupid thought?

"I've…" She had lowered her eyes, guilt ebbing away at her somber mood, until all she could feel was despair, and a crushing sense of doom.

What had become of her reality? Was everything she had felt was real - the paranoia, the fear, the guilt - just a product of her imagination? Her reality was crumbling before her eyes, and she had felt so, so ashamed.

"Please, sit" the leader had said, beckoning her over to the wide nest she was sitting on. "Don't be afraid to make yourself comfortable. I'm only a few moons older than you, I'm nothing to be scared of," she had added, her eyes warm and sympathetic.

That was true, they had once shared a den together, but the young warrior had been too embarrassed to say it. To think that she had slept so close to the leader without addressing her with the proper formalities, and had joked with her with familiarity like an equal. What a fool she had been - unable to see how great a cat she would be. But the leader stared at her with warm orange eyes, and she knew that she had nothing to fear indeed. They had once been friends.

She had sat down, her heart in her throat.

"I've been having these nightmares. Or, thoughts, to be more precise. I've been feeling like everything is at risk of being destroyed, and like every cat is a possible threat. I've been wondering if they really are. But… it's really not the way a Clan cat should behave. I'm incredibly sorry," she had meowed.

She didn't want Coldstar to have to look at her, to be scarred by the memory of the disgusting, horrible eyes of such a traitor, so she had bowed deeply, until her whiskers touched the floor.

"Is something happening in the Clan?" Coldstar had asked, her eyes flashing with a hint of stress.

Amberspots had felt guilty for having confused her leader, for having brought her at her level - unable to resist the fear and the paranoia. She felt like she had broken down the leader's mind with her absurdity, and she wished she would disappear into the ground and stay there forever. She had struggled to explain.

"I'm sorry, Coldstar. I'm the one to blame: nothing's happening except in my head. I've been dreaming - well, imagining - that everything goes to ash, and that everyone in the Clan is in pain, or angry." She had shook her head, overcome with frustration and grief. "It's not an omen - it's more like a daydream. It's really bad. Please, I wish to leave and let you all be okay. I bring destruction and fear wherever I go. Without me, the Clan will be safer. I can't bear to see them in danger. I beg you, Coldstar, please don't let this happen to our Clan."

She hadn't been aware of the leader's thoughtful face, as she had been struggling with a strange sense of ego. Why does it feel like I should accept this as part of who I am? This is awful. I shouldn't simply accept this as who I am, or walk around admitting it. It's horrible - I can't boast about being a traitor! Being cruel is just… not something to boast about. I should be fighting it, or running away, not considering it like a crooked ear and talk about it like it's a natural thing, I -

Coldstar spoke. "I have decided," she meowed in her clear voice, that had not yet been rendered hoarse by the years, but that still held her distinctive kindness in it, "that you will be in charge of patrol duty for half a moon."

Amberspots had looked up at her leader, and although she would never doubt the word of her leader, she was still unconvinced. What? Patrol duty? But I'm… how is this…? I thought she would shoo me away, or treat it like a passing illness. But… patrol duty? How am I worthy of such a task?

"I think that being in charge of things will make you have more control over your fears. If you can control the Clan's tasks for a period of time, perhaps you will find it that your fears are not uncontrollable, after all."

She had spoken with such a simple, quiet authority that Amberspots had been baffled. How is this okay? she cried internally. How does this solve anything? How does this make me better, or make the Clan safe? She did not doubt the decision of her leader, but she still felt worried for her friends' safety. What if this doesn't solve anything?

But Coldstar had flicked her tail, showing that she had made her decision. Amberspots had bowed and turned to leave. But, before she had completed her exit, the molly's clear mew had rang out one last time.

"I'm happy you told me about this. I... I was feeling alone with this issue myself. Do come back in half a moon for your report, and you may even come in early. It'll be a delight to talk to you again."

Then she had bowed her head in goodbye, and Amberspots, slightly flustered, had left for the sun-kissed clearing once more.

The memory had kept its original warmth, even though it was now soiled by moons of regret. It had been the start of her friendship with the leader, a very close friendship that had lasted for many moons, but with Twilightpaw -

She shook herself. Herbs. I was fetching herbs. This doesn't seem to actually happen very often these days, does it? she thought with amusement, thinking back to the times she had tried to go find some remedies but had failed. She had even forgotten why she had been wanting to go in the first place. A dream I had, she remembered.

She gave herself a few licks on the shoulder. Well, enough dwelling on about it. I'll do it right now. No take-backs this time. And she headed resolutely to the warrior's den without a moment's hesitation.


	13. Fleeting Shadows and Darkened Roots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is huge!! It's also one of the last pre-weitten chapters for the hiatus, so I'll get back to writing new ones shortly!! Yay, writing!!
> 
> It's been a while since I've done this, so I hope it'll be to your liking. Anyways, enjoy this chapter, the next one might be more chaotic!!

She entered the warriors' den, noticing the lack of Tigerstorm's scent in its walls. She had thought she could ask the young molly to accompany her, and they would spend a nice morning together. Perhaps it would be like nothing had changed; they would be again a warrior and a 'paw, talking about Clan life and battle moves or gossiping about the previous Gathering. It was a nice thought, but it would stay this way for today. Her friend had left already. I hoped she would be here today, and we could spend some time like we used to. I shouldn't be so selfish, though. I should be happy she's busy: it means she's not bored with her day. Really, Amberspots, you fox-heart. You're supposed to be a warrior, not a rogue. Show some compassion. Repressing a groan, Amberspots thought that she would have to ask someone else to accompany her instead. There was nobody in the den, so she turned to leave. I should have asked Moon-eye first, instead of coming in here unprepared.

As she felt the familiar prickle of the entrance's bramble walls around her shoulders, she realized how out of place she was. Not simply because she couldn't quite fit in the entrance anymore, but because it wasn't her den. She felt like she had tresspassed. What was she thinking, entering without even asking someone first? Elders may be allowed to come and go as they please, but it still feels wrong. What if I bother the warriors? They don't need an elder in their paws. How entitled must I be to enter here like it's my den, like I have any purpose ordering cats around, for any reason. Something in her mind was burning, like an old wound. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. Why was she still acting like a warrior?

Thinking about her time as a warrior made her skin crawl. Back then, she had thought herself to be a good warrior, and a good friend, but she had the nagging suspicion tha . She had just been ordering everyone around since the beginning. Not only when I was deputy. I think it's why I was given Twilightpaw as an apprentice. No other cat was able to --, she thought, fiddling with the words. She didn't want to imply that she had only agreed to train her out if duty, or that no other cat had wanted to train her, or that she had been an awful apprentice to her. She had been neither of those things. She was a wonderful student and a strong, lively cat, Amberspots thought with pride. She didn't like training much, but… wait.

The question she didn't dare to ask was whether she used to be . Maybe she was the only one who would have been able to withstand my training, and not the other way around. The thought had come up unexpectedly, but she still welcomed it, and it made her think about a lot of other unpleasant realities. I always am trying to order cats around, am I not? Trying to get to lead them, to force them to do my bidding. I even applied for deputyship. A good leader must not be authoritative, but enable cats to use their own freedom for their own causes, and secure them. I have done neither of these things. I've just daydreamed about being in authority like a fool. There is no excuse, and no misinterpretation that could make this okay. Even now, I try to order my thoughts around. I try to force them to be a certain way. I can't even let them be, I have to try and change them. What a fool I am, and a complete mouse-brain. Even in my own head, I give myself full authority. What does that say about me? Even my paranoia was based in the notion that I somehow had control over the Clan and the forest.

I'm just a fool, expecting everything to go down the way I like it. And had she really expected that whomever she asked to accompany her would agree? She had no authority anymore, it wasn't her place to ask, and they would have to ask the deputy anyways, and maybe they would even have to cancel their patrols. She'd just bother them with those unnecessary steps when she should have asked Moon-eye herself. Thinking things were simple like they used to be.

She looked around the empty clearing. Everyone is busy, she thought. She turned around and prepared to leave, but before she did so, she cast a bittersweet look at the familiar nests of the warrior's den. Not so long ago, she had slept in this very den. It feels like forever ago. She sighed, then made her way towards the elder's den.

"Amberspots!" Bluefeather meowed suddenly, startling the elder.

Amberspots turned around and saw that the tortoiseshell warrior was emerging from the elders' den.

"Bluefeather!" she greeted the molly. "Have you come back from visiting Whitewhisker and Molefang?" she asked, although the answer was obvious; Bluefeather had always taken special care of her grandparents, even in her youth. Not like I did.  
"Actually, I wasn't", she answered against all odds. "I was looking for you."

Her surprise passing, Amberspots let out a purr.

"Ah, is it about ticks? I assure you, I'm fairly clean. I washed my pelt myself", she added, looking at her shoulder for good measure.

No ticks there, she thought with a mixture of pride and anticipation. It wouldn't be long until the annoying insects caught up on the newest arrival in the den, and left their hosts for fresh blood. She had always had a knack for catching everyone's ticks, even with her back being as scarred and fur-less as it was. She had had a small break after she had changed her bedding, but she had had enough bad surprises to reasonably expect a tick-free moon. I can't wait, she thought sarcastically, shuddering at the thought of receiving yet another cleaning session. She hated bile.

"No, I… I was thinking of going to the forest today," she meowed in a strange voice. "I wanted to get some herbs to Ravenwhisker, and I thought you might want to come with me," she added hopefully.

There was something that reminded her of spoiled milk and bad heartache in the way she spoke, and Amberspots couldn't help but feel worried. Is something the matter? She never seeks me out. Well, she has been friendly these days. Perhaps she changed her mind. But no matter. It'll be nice to speak to her again. Our conversations are quite nice. So she nodded and walked towards the young cat.

"What herbs do you need?" she asked as the molly guided her towards the exit. "I know the best spots. Ravenwhisker used to take me herb-gathering back in our youth," she added fondly.

Then she remembered that Bluepaw had been a medicine cat apprentice and had done this exact same thing herself. She felt shame wash over her. I'm a mouse-brain. Then she thought about how maybe Bluefeather was remembering how she had used to be Ravenwhisker's apprentice and had actually done this exact same thing she just had said. At the thought that the young cat might feel bitter or upset about her falling-out with the old tom, she winced and bit back a confused mess of apologies. How thoughtful of me, forgetting things like this.

"I'm sorry," she meowed. "I didn't think about…"

Bluefeather shook her head.

"It's fine, I was just thinking about Twilightpaw. It's been a year since her… since she left. I thought… I thought we could share memories, if you want to."

Amberspots understood and nodded. As they walked towards the forest, Amberspots found herself deep in thought. Young cats do badly with grief. It can shape their lives. At my age, cats begin to accept it. It's part of our lives. But the first losses always hurt the worst. Twilightpaw had been her first. I had seen battle already. Cats dying and hurting. It stopped being unusual. But one death is already one too many. We would do well without it, I reckon. Cats living in peace, talking as friends, without any of this fighting. I suppose this is why most elders like their retirement. It feels peaceful. Battle and conflict start to feel pointless after a time. I wonder if younger cats would change their mindsets if they knew what awaited them: a life of content and calm away from the battlefield. Would they feel as though it matters not to fight? Would they respect their elders more? She thought of how mentors spoke of elders, when their apprentices complained about having to tend to them. "One day, it'll be you in there. You'll be glad youngsters will be there to help you." Others - older, more experienced cats, who often saw their own parents become elders - said: "They deserve your respect. They fought well and hard for their Clan. Taking care of them should be an honor, not a chore." Perhaps… perhaps -

"You know, her eyes used to sparkle in sunlight, like the fire that Twolegs make," Bluefeather mused. "They looked wonderful. And she used to sit here, when she was waiting for you to arrive." She gestured to a clump of ferns near the apprentices' den. "She always looked so strong in this light, and so pretty, too. I thought she was the most marvelous cat in the forest. She was brave, and kind, and funny. She was so clever, she could outplan any of us apprentices in a battle. She had those shoulders that could smack any cat over," she reminisced.  
"She would have been an amazing warrior," Amberspots answered with a nod, her voice heavy.  
"She should have been," Bluefeather agreed, her eyes bleak. "It… it should have turned out better. It wasn't supposed to happen," she muttered. "What kind of medicine cat can't treat their own patients? We failed StarClan that day."  
"You and Ravenwhisker did your best," she protested. "It was my fault. I should have come back faster to come back with the remedy."  
"But we should have done more," she whispered. "She should be alive -- she should be here with us, walking in the forest, feel the earth under her paws and breathe the air that catches her pelt, and joke about training and fight moves and how her limbs are so sore she can't move but run around anyways. She should be here, with me, in the warrior's den. I should still smell her scent when I wake up and see her pelt in the sunshine and look in her eyes, and… I should still have her next to me. It's… it's not fair. How can something like this happen? How can StarClan be so cruel? How can they tolerate something like this?"

She looked down in frustration, anger ebbing down to form some sort of bittersweetness that washed away all the other emotions she could have been feeling.

"Sometimes, I dream that she's still alive. That we're together in the warrior's den, and we cuddle to sleep every night. That we become mates, and have tons of little kittens together. We raise them in the nursery, and we give them their first taste of mouse… She sighed. "I'm sure she didn't feel that way about me, though. But… I couldn't stop imagining it. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded it too much: she would have loved to have kits, liked the little furballs. She would have been so happy to hear their first words. I think she secretly liked the idea of arguing with a kit. Found it interesting. She said they had much more in their little heads than we give them credit for. It would be mind-opening, she said, to be able to see the world through new eyes, and to see how much Clan life really made sense."

Amberspots hummed. "I remember she used to say that the youngest minds are often the wisest."

Bluefeather purred, lighting up at the memory. "The apprentices told her she only said that because she was the youngest of us, and she wanted to sound better than she was. I think they were somewhat right, but that didn't stop her from thinking it."  
"She was quite stubborn when she set her mind to it," Amberspots confirmed. "One time, she didn't want to carry our moss back to camp, so she hid under a tree. It was very dark, mind you, and it took me a few minutes to find her again. When I did, I scolded her for running off on her own. It could have been dangerous. What if an owl or a fox had spotted her?"

She purred in remembrance of her former apprentice's expression, how she had held her gaze in assurance, her shoulders puffed in defiance.

"She said that she was tired, and that it wasn't fair to make her carry all this moss after a full day of training. She asked that we do it another day. I said no," she added with a half-hearted purr. "Perhaps I shouldn't have done that. I really hated to make her do things against her will."

She tugged at a plant to distract herself from her guilt. Her own apprentice, and she had to be rude to her and mess it all up. What a mark it left on the Clan. What a good example.

"Mentors do that," Bluefeather said, nodding. "It wouldn't be a Clan without it."  
"That may be true," Amberspots agreed. "Although you'd never hear her say that," she added with a fond purr. "She really hated chores, the poor thing. But I still made her carry that moss all the way back to camp. She didn't complain anymore, even when her pelt got wet with rainwater from the moss. When we got back to camp, I told her to take all our finding to the elders and see if their bedding needed changing. She agreed and saw to it. I was suspicious, of course, but I didn't do anything. She had had a full day of training, after all, and the less I had to order her around, the better. I went to eat with the leader. I was deputy back then," she explained, feeling the usual bitterness at her comment, but she shrugged it off.

She clawed a hole under a plant that Bluefeather had guided her to, and dug it out faster than she had expected. Bluefeather took it in her jaws as the elder turned to another one of the herbs to dig it out. She continued her task, and as she noticed Bluefeather's glowing eyes in the shadows, she saw a flickering glint in them, a spark of interest. I'm honestly surprised. She seems to like my story. That would be the first time this sort of anecdote interests someone, exceptions aside. She kept going with renewed enthusiasm.

"I had a pleasant time with the leader. But when we had finished, I went back to the elders' den, and what did I see? Twilightpaw was listening to a tale, her belly full, and her eyes closed as though she was about to sleep. I thought she had forgotten her duties, and I was about to scold her, but then I saw that she had refreshed all the beddings with precision, with the leftover moss curled neatly in a ball to quench the elders' thirst. She had also given the elders a full tick wash and had brought them food for the night - all in the span of a quick meal. That shocked me quite a lot - I had only asked for her to do the bedding, and even then, I hadn't expected her to be so thorough with her task, seeing as she really hated doing these sorts of things. But here she was, asleep quietly after her little moment of zealousness. So I told myself, maybe there was something I hadn't seen in her before. Maybe she was more than the hot-headed, disobedient apprentice I thought she was. She certainly was all of these things, and more, but she had a kind side to her that I had neglected to notice until then."

Amberspots sighed in amusement, thinking about her late apprentice's antics. She gave back her pawful of plants and watched as Bluefeather delicately folded them as to not tear their fragile Leaves.

"I started paying more attention to her after that. She really had something hidden under her brashness. Not even hidden, in fact - it was fairly obvious, if you looked at her in the eye and talked with her for some time. She really was something else, Im quite a number of ways. Sometimes, I wonder how this wasn't common knowledge amongst us. But again, we often fail to see the truth under the first impression. Cats are much deeper than what they lead to believe. Perhaps they didn't take the time to truly see her."

Bluefeather shrugged.

"That wouldn't be new. We're all a bit ignorant of each other here. It doesn't take much for someone to have their true selves be overlooked because of some obvious, external trait. Sometimes, it feels like nobody really knows anyone."  
"Perhaps we don't", she mused. "But would that really be so bad? We all support and fight for each other, even if we don't really see each other for what we are. It doesn't change that."

Bluefeather nodded. " I suppose. It's more important for young cats than for … you", she finished tentatively.  
"Old cats, young one. Old, yes. You can say it as many times as you like. We are old, see; we can't hide it at this age anymore."

She winked. Nowadays, it seemed like Ravenwhisker's signature gesture, but it had been hers long before. Bluefeather snorted in laughter and picked back up the leaves she had carefully placed on a root to speak more clearly.

"It does seem like belonging is more important to young cats, yes," she added as they started to walk back to camp. "Though I reckon you're almost a full-grown cat now. You must have other preoccupations coming to mind?"  
"Leaves and nightmares, mostly", Bluefeather answered in a mutter. "I suppose this is the age when cats want to feel useful, to have a secured place in the Clan- I can't say I'm any different, really. I keep thinking about my love for herbs and how I can put it to good use. It's not a bad thing, but I can't help but wonder if this sudden need is making me miss out on something else, something better. I just can't find what this something better is for the life of me. I would love to skip through to a more mature, peaceful part of myself, but that's not really working out, I suppose. Not that it had any chances of working, really. That would be ridiculous. I can't escape my age," she added in a somber whisper.

Amberspots flinched at how much that was true. If she could turn back time, StarClan knew she would have, for her friends and her brother. So they would be young and healthy again. And so she would have all her mobility and none of those hideous scars she hated for what they meant - how reckless and stupid she had been. All those stupid things she wished she could reverse, but none of them could be.

"None of us can," she answered, with a pang of regret.

And together, they entered the camp again.


	14. Starlit Path

Someone was walking in Ravenwhisker's den, but it wasn't the medicine cat. It was Fernpaw; the young molly was sitting near the wall, looking as though she was listening intently to something. She seemed very eager to listen to whomever was speaking. It's Ravenwhisker, Amberspots guessed instantly. Who else would she be listening to? I should have seen it coming. She's been wanting to be his apprentice for ages. She looked at Bluefeather, who looked crestfallen. The young molly took a few steps towards the den, dropped her herbs and turned to Amberspots, her eyes dark with sadness.

-Would you mind telling Ravenwhisker that we've returned? I've got to go, she meowed.  
-Of course, answered Amberspots, her heart aching for the young cat. May StarClan light your path, she added uselessly, trying to find words to tell her she understood her grief. StarClan knows this must break her heart.

Bluefeather sighed and stalked back to her nest. Amberspots took the herbs and entered the den without daring to look back, afraid of the sadness she saw in the young cat's eyes. It reminded her too much of her own. I must be selfish to think like this. But… she had said "but" without actually having something to say for herself. There's no excuse, is there? I'm a horrible cat. And even saying this isn't changing anything.

She closed her eyes and tried to place her head on her paw, but something stopped her: a voice, screaming at her to be more thoughtful. Her own voice, as loud as someone else's, screaming into her mind in frustration. This is going to hurt you, you stupid cat! Can't you just be something else? You know kindness -- that thing you've never known? How about you detail all the bad things you did, huh? Wouldn't that be lovely?

She wanted to scream, to cry. Everything was too much, and there was no way she could spell it out without being shunned out of existence by everyone else. So she just bit the inside of her cheek hard to feel like she had a grip on things. She was ridiculous, but so what? She was old, she would die anyways. Who cared about what happened in her head?

She half-wished she could scream endlessly to get everything out, but the rest of her only wanted Ravenwhisker to come back and look at the herbs already. Maybe then she would go to sleep - that would feel better, would it not? And no matter: shunning herself internally felt better than ignoring it, so she let it go. It was so much worse to ignore it… well, for herself. She knew that no cat wanted to have anything to do with someone who was always complaining about this or that, but -- and whatever. Everyone outside was just talking so loud and she couldn't take it.

She had never wished to be somewhere else than today. And of course she knew that things weren't so bad, in that sense that nobody was doing anything wrong. But she was feeling bad -- but that was her own problem, was it not? She was the one on the wrong, so surely it must not be so bad? 

She decided she would just go take a walk later on to ease her worries and let out a sigh. Sometimes, it felt like everything was spinning out of control, like her mind was a storm and it was progressively getting worse. Perhaps it would happen eventually but she hoped not. Or not soon, at least.

She pricked her ears for sounds of pawsteps down the herb stash, but she could only hear faint mews. They had disappeared there a few seconds earlier, and she could only hope they would come back again soon. She did not want to stay here too long: without Ravenwhisker here, she felt like she wasn't supposed to be here. That, and she was very tired. I'm sure I'll have time to sleep later.

She curled her toes on the matted soil, trying to make herself busy. She made little holes on the ground, then filled them up again, only to claw it a second time. It wasn't the most fun activity, but it was still less boring than waiting. She felt like a kit for playing like this, but she refused to feel bad.

After what felt like an eternity, she saw her brother's sleek pelt shine against the back walls. By then, Amberspots had no other motivation than going back to sleep, feeling exhausted and like her mind was made of moss. She gave Ravenwhisker and Fernpaw the mouthful of herbs, briefly explained what they were and why she had some, then said her goodbyes before stalking away to her den.

She wondered why she was so tired. It wasn't the memories of Twilightpaw: she had gotten used to them. She had been grieving for a long time, after all, and she wasn't shocked by those kinds of feelings anymore. Perhaps it was to see Ravenwhisker with a apprentice? (Or a soon-to-be one anyways) Perhaps she was jealous. Oh, come on. That would be ridiculous. I'm much too old for this.

She decided to just settle down in her nest and close her eyes again. Her mind took her back to her kithood. She saw herself playing with her brother near the nursery, with their mother watching them from the entrance.

-Mum! Look! I caught this butterfly! Amberkit was bragging, dragging the insect to her mother so she could take a better look.

She looked up at Breezetail, hoping she would praise her. I've always been a weird kit. Why would I want her to praise me like that? It's not how a Clan cat should behave, is it? Why did I even do that? Sometimes, I worry I was ruining Ravenwhisker's childhood with my antics. Both battling for Mum's attention. It's how kits are, but I should have known better.

She saw her brother sitting near, playing with a leaf. Amberspots wondered if he was envious. I was always screaming for Mum's attention. Maybe he felt like he hadn't any and I was taking it all? Perhaps it was obvious, but Amberspots had never been good at things like that.

They had always played together as kits, but during apprenticeship, they had somewhat grown apart. That was to be expected: they were not training with the same mentors. And kits were supposed to grow apart. They couldn't be best friends forever, could they? That would be too good. And well… Cats weren't like that. Cats didn't stay the same, they started to like different things, and sometimes they got into fights. We fought, sometimes. I wish we hadn't. But it was always over soon. It just… didn't feel good. I should have apologized more. I wasn't a good friend, I think. Of course, young cats aren't always the best at talking to each other, and perhaps it was only natural that we drifted apart for a while, but… I just didn't want to lose my brother. I didn't know that back the, I was more focused on making new friends and other useless stuff like that. I should have known that I already had one.

She remembered the times they helped each other with training. Well, I'll give you that one, dream. We were pretty close, I guess. It's just… I don't know. Siblings aren't "best friends" in the way other cats are. They don't talk. They just do things together, but they bottle up. They take each other for granted most of the times. They do talk, but it's not the same. Except for apprenticeship: sometimes, we both were stressed, and it somewhat made us a team. We had to get past it so we could make Mum proud, so we helped each other.

She looked and saw that they were huddled together. Mum died. It brought us back together. We talked more after that. We became better friends than before. Maybe it's because losing a parent can… what am I saying? I don't know. Or do I? Whatever. Did we even get close? Well, we did. But not before a long, long time. We became better friends after we both finished our apprenticeship, but it became kind of hard to talk to each other. But we did try. I'll give us that.

She didn't want to look, but there she was, dragging a mole to the medicine den.

-Come eat, young Amberspots said. It's fresh. Wait, are you busy? What's that? It looks cool, she said, peeking at the green goo he was chewing.

Young Ravenwhisker gestured to the side of the den, concentrated on finishing his poultice, perhaps slightly irritated at her commentary. I was taking his poultice time to get him to talk to me. Guess he found me overbearing. And, well - I must have been really annoying. I talked too much, when I was trying to get him to be my friend again. I was hoping we could share things and be closer, like siblings could be - but I didn't really do it properly.

-Okay, he muttered between his teeth. I'll come out, just let me finish my poultice.

Young Amberspots looked anxious as she sat down near the wall. She used to think he hated her - seeing as he looked annoyed every time she spoke to him. Well, that makes sense. I always tried to talk to him while he was busy. How can a cat respond when they get interrupted doing the things they like? She had thought that asking him about what he was doing would get him to share about his activity, and he would be happy to know that she was admiring his passion, but it came out wrong every time. Oh, I did catch up eventually, but I still made mistakes.

Then, they had grown older, and their pelts had started to turn gray. Only then had they started to become friends -- real friends. The reality of having siblings that every cat knew except for the siblings themselves had dawned upon them with age: that they cared a lot for each other. It was easy to overlook, but with age, they saw that sometimes, the only cats they could count on were their family. They had helped each other through their hardships, Ravenwhisker about Bluepaw and Amberspots about Twilightpaw, and eventually, they had realized that they were good friends, after all.

She didn't know why she thought of this today, but she was happy she had. It somewhat reassured her to think back at her friendship with her brother, and it made her certain once again that her dream, where she had felt such coldness from him, was just a nightmare. It had been unexpected to think about such a thing today, but sometimes, her thoughts became humbles and stopped being organised. She thought about things that were unrelated to anything else, or had very little connection together. It could ruin her thought process and make her feel ridiculous.

On this case, the sudden whirl of thoughts made her feel scared, and she screamed for help. I'm losing my mind. I'm dying. I'm going crazy. Everything is out of control and I'm not getting better. She shouted for Ravenwhisker, for Bluefeather, for anyone to come help her. But she felt helpless and alone. She felt frail. And the cats around her weren't listening at all. They were barely twitching their whiskers. Of course they're not. I never asked for help. They're all busy. Breaking into a run, she circled the clearing, frantic, and suddenly she realized she remembered nothing. Her nest was gone. Nothing smelled like it used to be. Cats were strange and didn't look at her. I have no place here anymore. This isn't home. There's no cat i know here. No smells i remember. There's nothing from my time. I'm going to die alone and miserable.

And then she woke up in her nest and proceeded to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this coherent? No idea. The fun thing with this fanfiction is that nothing can be too out-of-placd since it's stated that Amberspots had difficulty making sense to herself. So yay!! Also YAY IM BACK WOOHOO I'll have to remember what the plot was though... Anyways enjoy!!! Thanks for waiting for me you're all lovely!!


	15. Sunlit Rocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Amberspots left the camp to go on a walk after she brought the herbs to Ravenwhisker. She fell asleep afterwards.
> 
> I point this out since it wasn't what I wrote un the last chapter. Amberspots had gone straight to bed. But the Canonical version that I'll rewrite soon is that she goes in the forest and falls asleep there.
> 
> That said, enjoy!!! An extra-long chapter this time.

Two mollies, huddled on a white stone, heads pressed together, pelts ragged and shining in the morning sun. They were talking with their close together; one could see their eyes sparkling between the dark shadows the sky cast. One of them had her nose protectively pressed against the other molly's headfur, her orange eyes warm aglow with love.

-This was a bad idea, the first molly said, her voice young but her eyes full of so much worry. We should not have done this. This was a mistake.  
-Believe, my dear Amberspots. Believe in StarClan that it will be alright.  
-What if they get hurt, or they fall ill? So many things could happen that make me afraid. I have not enough experience, I will only brings disaster upon them. Please, my friend. They do not need me as they need you.

The second molly looked contemplatively at the clearing, oozing with dust, vibrating with the pawsteps of every cat marching upon it.

-I trust you, she said simply, without averting her eyes. Don't you trust me to trust you?

Amberspots looked down in shame.

-I'm afraid that's not quite what I meant. You're an amazing leader. They need your strength to guide them through the hard times. Without someone like you at their head, they'll surely perish, or go mad.  
-I do believe they'll find a way to survive, Coldstar pointed out with a soft laugh. They're not quite so helpless once you get to know them. I'm sure they'd survive for a moon or two.

The younger molly looked up tentatively, squinting under the sun's bite, and met Coldstar's friendly gaze with her own.

-I thought the purpose of a leader was to take care of everyone, and have everything under control - to prevent anything before it even happens. To protect them from dangers before they have a chance to learn about it.

Coldstar nodded peacefully.

-Not quite.

Amberspots locked eyes with her; orange eyes meet amber.

-What is it, then?

Coldstar purred, her eyes glinting.

-Nothing. A good leader is nothing but what her Clan makes of her. She gets asked for a fish and she gives two; she's told to make a nest and she builds a camp. Being a good leader is seeing what cats expect of you, and then making that better, without judgement, without restraint, and from there will come the assurance.  
-Surely there must be something else to it? Amberspots protested in frustration. How am I supposed to know if what I do is right? What if I make bad decisions, or immoral ones, because no cat told me to, so they could not make me stop? It's so frustrating. I can't possibly be making the right choices if I'm only doing what people want me to do. Where do the values go in this? The peace? The foresight? They'll -- what if they want me to take bad decisions? How do I know I'll remain a good leader -- a good cat?

Coldstar twitched her whiskers.

-Like this.

She looked at her friend in affection, and for a second, one could see the rich colors of fire and the deep sunset of leaf-fall that made up her pelt reflected in the molly's eyes, and one could not help but wonder if such a beautiful sunset was what she saw when she laid eyes on the molly. One could see how much warmth she held for her, and for a moment, this warmth seemed to embrace the ginger molly in a delicate breeze. When the cream cat started to speak, her words sang like droplets, cold and refreshing against the leaf-fall sky that was her pelt.

-Hear your words: you say you know not if you would make the right decisions. This is how you'll know you're on the right path. Horrendous cats never doubt their righteousness. As long as you doubt, you'll know your heart is on the right place.

The molly seemed touched.

-Coldstar…  
-You mustn't doubt yourself, just like I have never doubted you.

They shared an affectionate headbutt as clouds passed by in the sky and cast soft shadows on the forest below. Everything was calm, it almost felt like a dream. And perhaps it was one. Cats were calmly walking past one another, sharing prey from the heap, exchanging soft words between the pale branches.

They talked ever-so-softly, making every one of their words seem like it was just an illusion of the wind, as the cats were slipping between shadows and bushes, busying themselves with hard work or a well-earned relaxation. At the edge of the clearing, an old molly watched the Highrock from afar, gazing down on the gigantic rock with hard, bitter eyes. She was almost snarling at it as she scrambled to her paws to turn further away from the agitation of the camp.

-It was all perfect, but then you came along and ruined it. You weren't made for it then and you never have been. You shouldn't have said yes. You let her down and you ruined everything. And now you've got to fix the mess you've made. Great going, Amberspots.

She looked away with a glint in her eyes and began her long, lonely walk without sparing another glance for her Clanmates, headed down the cliff and disappeared in a flurry of leaf noises. There was nothing more now to be heard, other than a dejected "And now you're talking to yourself". And perhaps there was nothing more anyone needed to hear. Mistakes stained a cat forever; why bother looking at what they had been before them?

*

Amberspots remembered the bitter taste of bile and the freezing touch of a water-soaked ball of moss. She might have also seen flashes of soft sand-colored paws. Probably Fernpaw. Though she couldn't guess for the life of her why she would be taking care of her in her time of need. Perhaps she wants to learn how to cure care? Or maybe she's just curious. That's why Bluefeather chose the path, after all. Then she remembered her brother had announced her she was going to be his new apprentice. Or had he? Sometimes, it's hard to remember what really happened between all the strange dreams and such.

This reminded her that her brother was probably there, too. She lightened up and tried to look around, but a sudden dizziness made her stop dead in her tracks. She felt an urge to eject her stomach's contents on the floor again and chose to sit down again until she had a better idea of her surroundings. The medicine den, obviously. He always keeps his patients on the same side of the wall. I know where I am. I just hope there isn't a bile-sealed ball or a half-eaten mouse sitting around here somewhere that I could crush. Wouldn't want to ruin any cat's day again. Why was she saying "again"? That was a great question.

Speaking of questions. She could hear Tigerstorm's footsteps outside the den. She felt a purr rise in her throat and strained her ears to listen to her protégée's voice.

-She's got a smoke infection, someone said in a strange voice. It's quite severe. I don't suggest anyone come inside to see her. She needs to rest.  
-She'll be fine, said Ravenwhisker. She only needs a bit of rest and a good meal. Tomorrow, she'll be back on her paws. I'll tell her you have come. She'll be glad to hear it.  
-I can hear, Amberspots rasped from wherever she was. You can come in if I'm not dying, as long as you don't mind the smell.

She heard shuffling, and suddenly, the smell of something very orange reached her nostrils; unsurprisingly, the softer smell of Beavertail flooded the room a few moments after.

-I'm doing my best, you know, muttered Ravenwhisker with a purr. You fox-heart, you don't care about my hard work. Warrior-brain, he murmured to her ear as to not insult everyone else.  
-Medicine cat face, she teased back before stopping herself.

She found it harder to breathe after talking, and soon she was ejecting warm, gooey bile from her throat. The smell alone would have had caused another eruption had Ravenwhisker not dabbed her whiskers with the perfumed stems of a flower beforehand. Amberspots had not enough strength to thank him, but her whiskers quivered gratefully. She heard a purr, then the shimmer of short fur, as Ravenwhisker replace some of the bedding. She tried to roll over to give him more space to work. As she did so, she heard Beavertail murmur something to Tigerstorm, his voice careful.

-She must be exhausted. The smoke infection must be draining. We should come back later and let her rest.  
-Come over here, I'm not dead yet, Amberspots complained. Come, come -- pay a old molly a visit. I don't bite.

She tried to open her eyes to slits, and purred happily when the first thing she saw was a pair of bright blue eyes looking back at her with both happiness and concern.

-Amberspots! Tigerstorm exclaimed, pressing her muzzle to her shoulder. Here you are! When you didn't come back from your walk, I got so worried, but Bluefeather offered to search for you, so it was better, but then I thought you were dead or a fox had eaten you and I almost cried, but Fernpaw said we had to have faith and -- where's Bluepaw? Bluefeather, she corrected herself. She said she would come back after she found you.  
-Is she still in the forest? Should we send someone to look for her, too? fretted Beavertail anxiously.  
-I was making dirt, Bluefeather interrupted with an annoyed tone. Seriously -- I was gone for five seconds, Tigerstorm.

Amberspots heard a careful sniff near her muzzle and deduced that Bluefeather was searching for odd-smelling mucus. Probably out of habit. Or… maybe she still thinks Ravenwhisker can't work fast enough on his own. Regardless of the reason, she seemed to be doing a full checkup of the old molly.

-Did you give her something for her pads? She needs nothing more than that. Her illness is emotional, not physical, she criticized.

Suddenly, her tone was anxious and concerned. Ravenwhisker's pawsteps buzzed near, until he seemed to be leading her away. Fernpaw seemed to be doing the same thing, beckoning the group over to the outside of the den in soft whispers.

-I'm doing everything I can, she heard him promise softly. As long as I have a say in it, she'll be cured.

There was nothing, then a soft "Thanks, Ravenwhisker", before Bluefeather's pawsteps became distant. Tigerstorm strayed a few seconds more to nuzzle the elder's shoulder, then left, her fear-scent almost stronger than the perfumed of the flower stems under her nose.

-She'll be fine, right? her quivering voice rang out from far away.  
-I hope so, Beavertail answered sadly.

Something familiar pressed against her chest, and Amberspots guessed Ravenwhisker was giving her a poultice for her infection. She couldn't hear him, however, as soon enough, her exhaustion had caught up with her, and she was falling into a deep sleep again.

* 

-The deputy before me - well, he was only Graystalk back then, but you called him Graystar - used to have anxiety. He worried about his Clanmates day and night, to the point of losing sleep. He had no other issues like you do, if I may say so.

Amberspots nodded good-naturedly. She did not mind cats say it. She had no shame of it except for her failure at beating the bad feelings out of her head.

-I call them illusions. They're dreams, but not quite. It's like being convinced of something that isn't real, and becoming so sure it exist that you can almost feel it.  
-That sounds horrible, Coldstar murmured.  
-Sometimes, I almost wish they didn't exist, admitted the young molly with a wince. But I suppose I should rather say they're a challenge fit for a warrior. What better enemy than a cat's own mind? It is the hardest battle and the most honorable one.

Coldstar didn't answer for a few seconds, then looked at her friend.

-You do not need to always fight. There is peace here.  
-There is peace when you are here, Amberspots hummed, looking down at the cats below. But when you're gone, I find myself at a loss. What can I possibly do against…

She did not know what to call it. In shame, she lowered her head to her paws, as to only be able to look away towards the clearing.

-I did not know what to do about it either, Coldstar admitted in a quiet meow. It froze me to know that there could be threats that were psychological -- that there were enemies out there that could influence destiny itself. It wasn't true, thank StarClan, but it still remained one of my biggest challenges to this day. Sometimes, it still does. I may wake and find myself fearing curses or the like. Then I remember what Graystalk said about it.

Amberspots looked up slowly.

-You told him? I hope he wasn't upset, or afraid. Or disgusted -- I'm so sorry if that is what happened, you would not deserve that.  
-He understood, I think.

Amberspots eyed her in surprise.

-That's a first. He didn't even give you the 'there is nothing out there but StarClan' speech?  
-Apparently, they don't do that in RiverClan, Coldstar corrected. He didn't even do the breathing exercise -- he gave me a row of honey to eat and said it would ease the stress I was feeling. He seemed worried.

Amberspots purred in relief. It had been nice to have a leader from another Clan. He had been well-liked, and even when he had mated with a molly and had kits, no car batted an eye and simply applauded the leader's kin as it was usual for them to do. She still missed him (every cat did), but now that she knew he had been supportive of their common disease, she felt a new pang of affection for her old leader.

They both looked into the sky in contemplation, lost in their memories of Graystar, until Amberspots spoke up again.

-What was it like, to have a mentor with whom you could talk about it?  
-Reassuring, Coldstar whispered. We used to talk a lot about my mental state, and how to not lose my cool despite it. He included it in my training as deputy. He said every deputy needed to keep their cool, and I too should learn to, it was only fair I be given extra time to perform better. I thought he was amazing.

Coldstar turned to face Amberspots, her orange eyes fond.

-Sometimes, I would doubt myself, too. I would think I was doing a horrible job at being deputy, but, no matter what, he kept training me like nothing was the matter. He told me, "if you always worry about your Clanmates, it means you love them enough to be scared for them, not that you're wishing death upon them." He said it was how he had chosen me as his successor. He thought that I was special. He said that being afraid of curses wasn't a fault, it was a gift. It would prepare me for war, and for hunting. It would give me extra skills in planification and awareness that no other warrior would have. "If you don't let the fear consume you and use the good parts to tout advantage, it can be a wonderful ability", he told me.  
-That's one way to see it, Amberspots admitted. I don't know if that cuts it, though. I don't know if it's right to make an illness sound so beneficial. I've been told it's a hurtful thing to do.

Coldstar nodded in acknowledgement.

-I suppose it comes down to us to do it, since no other cat will. Perhaps we have a duty to make it sound good, to counterbalance everything else.

Amberspots approved.

-Why did you choose me? she asked suddenly, hungrily.

Coldstar thought for a second, all the whole Amberspots eyed her, almost begging for an answer.

-You were worried about us. The first time we talked, you told me you were worried about the safety of the Clan. You were worried they would get hurt and die, you wanted to protect them, to guide them. It struck me. And the way your illusions manifest is also quite interesting. They scare you more when your Clan is concerned than when it's about yourself only. This might seem like nothing, but to me, it felt like the mark of a great leader.

Amberspots sighed and rested her head next to Coldstar.

-I'll never be as good as you, or Graystar, she said with a sigh. And I'll probably make a lot of mistakes and drive the Clan into chaos and conflict. What makes you think you can trust me? How can you be sure I won't turn completely dirt-headed and harm everyone? Maybe the power will go to my head and I'll make cats suffer, she said darkly. Maybe I shouldn't be deputy. I have too much of a complex to be trusted with authority.  
-Amberspots, honey, you'll only organize patrols, Coldstar laughed gently. No cat is at risk from it. And you'll have all the time you need to learn it, she added, pointing to the nursery. Whitewhisker will only be a few tail-lengths away. You'll be able to ask her any questions you like.

Amberspots sighed, then finally nodded.

-Me. Deputy. I guess we're doing it now.


	16. Striving to Breathe

It became clear from the way Ravenwhisker and Fernpaw were talking in hushed whispers that Amberspots would not leave the medicine den soon, so she decided to make herself comfortable. There was not much she could do to make the small nest feel more like home, though -- that said, smelling her brother everywhere reminded her of the time they slept with Mother, a long time ago. She remembered she used to be annoyed when she found that it smelled more than usual -- that would mean he had fussed during the night. I used to get upset with him. I said he was disturbing Mom. She shook her head dismissively. What a mouse-brain I was. He couldn't help having nightmares -- but I could have helped the way I responded to it.

She closed her eyes regretfully. She found that it became easier everyday to get lost in remorse. Perhaps it was a result of old age, of seeing how much her young self had been immature and naive. I shouldn't hold it against myself too much. I was only a kit. But then again, he was one too. Well - at least she had apologized already. Good one. I guess I managed to use the small bit of wisdom I had when it happened.

Slightly reassured, she let out a yawn. She had just woken up, but it still felt like she had been up and about for ages. I wonder if Bluefeather feels better about yesterday. And if Tigerstorm and Beavertail became mates. Are they already? I can't remember. She rested her head against her paws again. Whatever. It'll feel better after a good nap.

*

-Beaverkit, get your tail over here, scolded the gray molly, squinting her eyes at a tiny shape that jumped around the bushes. Come on, this is no time for games.

The tabby was shooting her a playful gaze, making the molly stare in exhaustion at her son's ever-excited games.

-This isn't the time. And you shouldn't get so close to the brambles, she scolded in a tired croak. You could get hurt. Just stay by me, okay?

The kit's tail drooped and he padded closer to his mother, his eyes fixed on the path in front of them. The mother gently stroked his soft kitten-fur with her tail, noticing how damp his coat had gotten. The rain had not spared the small kit. She almost winced imagining his pads sore from the walking, and regretted making him walk all this way: but he had to. They needed to get there before dark, and he had to strengthen his muscles if he ever wanted to make a good impression on ThunderClan. It wasn't everyday they let in cats from another Clan, and they would need to be their best selves to be accepted. It wasn't fair, but again, what in Clan life was?

-Come on! the kit begged again after a few boring minutes. I can go play near, I won't get out of earshot, and I promise I won't go near any brambles.

Softening, the molly set her gentle yellow gaze over her son.

-We don't have time, little one. We must hurry: your brother and your father are waiting for us at the camp. We don't want to keep them waiting, right?

Beaverkit hummed half-heartedly.

-I miss Pelletkit. Why did he have to stay so far away? I wish I could still play with him.  
-I miss him too, the mother said sadly. And I miss your father as well. Sometimes I wish they could stay with us in RiverClan, too. But it's a good thing they left: when your father becomes leader, things will be better for all of us. And he'll be happier. It's lucky we have the chance to leave.

She stopped for a moment to help the kit up a rock, then continued.

-But it's hard too, right? Do you miss our old nest? she inquired.  
-No. I miss Pelletkit, Beaverkit muttered. It's not fair he had to leave.  
-You'll see him soon, I promise. We just have to get to camp.

Beaverkit shrugged in exhaustion. The perspective of the camp was too far away to hold any significance to him.

-Can I play? I won't do anything dangerous.  
-I'm sorry, little one, but games have to wait. There's rain coming, and rain makes mud. It's better if we walk now and play after.

Suddenly, her eyes glinted, and she lowered her head towards her son.

-I'll give you a badger ride when we get there, she promised.

Beaverkit's eyes lit up in joy.

-Really? You'll give me a badger ride for real? Thank you!! Thank you!!! You're the best mother ever!! Come on, we should hurry, he fretted, then pressed on ahead in a happy little bounce.  
-Stay close! the gray molly called, watching him scamper off with a smile.

*

-She's not waking up, Ravenwhisker was saying somewhere else.  
-I gave her a poultice, Fernpaw explained softly.

Something was brushing against Amberspots' cheek.

-She should be awake, shouldn't she? At least a little. This doesn't make sense…

Ravenwhisker was obviously exhausted, from the way his paws fell heavily on the ground. But then he took a deep breath and when his voice rang again, he seemed calmer.

-She'll be fine. StarClan's watching over her. We have to believe.

*

-Hey, Coldstar?

The leader looked up.

-Hmm?  
-There's a uh, a kit. Crying. It says I think too rudely. He'll die if I -- if I'm too rude or mean or despicable. Can I -- can I sit with you?  
-Please, do, said Coldstar softly.

Amberspots sat down.

-He's -- it tells me he's going to die. If I -- whenever I start thinking about something, he's crying again, and -- Beaverkit's so small, he'll surely break if I do anything. I thought -- I thought the only way to stop it would be to --

Suddenly she stopped, because Coldstar had unexpectedly pressed her muzzle to her shoulder, and it was nice and she liked it and she didn't want her to stop.

-You won't hurt him, Coldstar whispered. I know you won't.

Amberspots took in a shuddering breath.

-I know. But it just doesn't stop. Why doesn't it stop?

She let out a small cry.

-Why can't I just live anymore? she protested.

Then she sobered up, not wanting to let it out when Coldstar was nearby. She didn't like to get emotional in front of other cats.

-We can visit him, if you like, said Coldstar. Go check on him. I'm sure that would do the trick. And, if you like -- whenever those things happen within the Clan, say, someone got hurt or you hear a noise -- I'm sure it wouldn't bother anyone if you went to check up on things. It might even be reassuring to them to see their deputy paying attention to it.  
-You think so? I just don't want to get all happy for something I'll change my mind about later. What if this is a bad idea?

She looked exhausted. Coldstar shuffled to make place.

-Do you want to spend the night here?

Amberspots looked at her for a moment.

-You -- you want me to stay here? For -- what?  
-To help you sleep better, Coldstar said. If you want to.

Amberspots timidly walked over and sat down close to her. Coldstar hummed in approval and sat down her head on her paws.

-I'll keep watch for the Clan while you're sleeping, she whispered. You can rest now.

And then Amberspots fell asleep, and it was the best sleep she'd had in years. And she wouldn't admit it, but the warmth of her friend's pelt was more welcome than ever.

*

Suddenly she woke up, her pelt drenched in sweat, her eyes beady with tears of irritation. She swatted at something on her nose, and found a feather, that she shooed away with a quiet huff. Everything seemed calm around her. Ravenwhisker wasn't here, but Fernpaw was sitting somewhere near. Good. She could tell me where he is. She tried to pure a greeting, but her throat was try, and it clenched painfully when she drew in a breath.

-Fernpaw? Please, little one, may I have some water? she called in a harsh whisper.

The young molly hummed a response and pushed a ball of moss that was already laying near her nest. Now that she saw it, she felt stupid for not having noticed it before. And also for making Fernpaw fetch it for her. Only a few days into being treated like a patient and I'm already becoming entitled. Wow -- to think I was always in someone's care until my apprenticeship. I must have been a pain to my mother. But that's okay. Kits need to be entitled: they need attention to survive. But adult cats don't like it. I'm a burden on everyone. I'm making their lives miserable with my attitude. I always ask them to do things for me, or to answer my questions. I'm horrible.

She decided not to ask Fernpaw where Ravenwhisker was. She didn't need to know, and she didn't need to ask in order to find out. She shouldn't bother her needlessly. To think it took me seven years to find out. What a mess I am.

Perhaps they should let me stay sick. I have more compassion when I'm not taking things for myself. And, honestly, it feels good not to do things for selfish reasons. I should keep doing it. I feel somewhat more full when I don't ask people anything. Like I'm more… a part of things. Or like I'm doing them a favor. Or well, maybe I'm just learning respect and I like it. Whatever it is, it's probably something easy to describe that I'm just looking at from a strange perspective. Like someone sees a tree from the ground up and cannot understand, but if they see it from a distance, they realise.

She lapped at the water, still lost in thought. It's worrying how I'm reacting like this. What I'm describing is discretion, and not taking all the attention. Why am I reacting like it's something new and unknown to everyone? It really is not. And I should never think myself good for it -- seriously, I should not become so self-centered and vain. I should rather die than become some kind of self-assessed spiritual cat.

She finished the water and sighed. I thought that, if I suffered, I would become a nicer person. Turns out, I still am completely dirt-headed and bossy. What can I do? There is nothing I can do to let the others live in peace. Or perhaps the way is to better myself, honestly and with humbleness, and feel genuinely guilty and not be rude about it. I should see my mistakes and admit them. There is no way around it.

But perhaps I just can't see myself get truly better without getting punished in some way. I would still feel guilty even if I did get better. Oh, this is all wrong. I should just -- just go ask someone for advice. I don't know what to do. I need guidance.

So naturally, she got to her paws and thought of the only cat she could think of that could help: Coldstar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know some of this doesn't make sense yet and to be honest with y'all I have no idea yet of what's happening but I trust myself to come up with something eventually. So it'll be a surprise for all of us. Anyways I hope you enjoy!! See you next update!


	17. Light Between Shadows

Camp was cold. Sometimes, Amberspots would forget that it was leaf-bare. It felt so warm inside the medicine den that she would think it was greenleaf already, but whenever she'd take a look outside, she would remember. And she supposed it was quite poetic, in a way. She was seeing Coldstar, it was cold, she felt sad. It all matched-up.

She didn't know if she needed to ask someone to come inside, and perhaps she did. She had forgotten what the protocol was. But she also knew that Coldstar used to tell her to make herself at home and come talk to her whenever she wanted. Unlike other leaders she knew, Coldstar always liked to be accessible, and didn't want to be unreachable. She would often say she was just a cat, and she was no different than them. She had more lives, of course, and more responsabilities, but at the same time, every cat in the Clan had a heavy weight on their shoulders. She would sometimes say that hers wasn't as hard as theirs. She only needed to oversee things. And yes, she needed to organise patrols and think about meetings with the other Clans and about what to do about whatever border dispute happened lately, but as she would say sometimes, to her, it wasn't a bigger task, it was just a different one. And of course, it involved lots of cats -- but then again, every cat's duty was to the Clan. It really was no different.

Of course, cats disagreed. Amberspots didn't really know what to think. But either ways, it did make her friendlier than some leaders she had known before. She did not know any leaders who said their den was like the warrior's den and could be entered at any time. Or who let kits play hide-and-seek in her den. Or who parricipated in their game by playing innocent when the other kit was searching the first one, cozily hidden under her fluffy paws.

So Amberspots decided to enter, even thought it still felt wrong to do that. Maybe she was imposing, as usual. The thought sent some sort of nausea-smell into her mouth, and she felt the urge to leave. But then, she heard a familiar mew from the shadows of the den.

-Amberspots! What a nice surprise! Coldstar exclaimed from her nest. Come in, make yourself comfortable.

Amberspots sat down and analyzed the molly's eyes, trying to find any trace of anger in them.

-It's been too long, she said. Please forgive me. I avoided you for too long.  
-You were grieving, Coldstar said softly. And it's not like we didn't see each other.  
-Grieving. I seem to do a lot of that lately.  
-Well, that makes two of us. I'm glad you understand, Coldstar said with a bittersweet purr.

Then the cream-colored molly reached out tentatively and pressed a small lick to her ear.

-It's good to see you again, she murmured softly.

Amberspots backed away a little, to try and see the emotion in her eyes, and she was surprised to only see tenderness. She felt a purr rise in her chest and pressed their forehead together as time stopped altogether.

-For me too.

*

-Brother, I -  
-Amberpaw, please, it's --

The siblings stopped in their tracks.

-You start, said Amberpaw.  
-No, you go, protested Ravenpaw, fidgeting with a paw. Yours is more important.

The young apprentice sighed and struggled to find words.

-Mollies smell special, she finally uttered. Not like the others. They smell more… attractive. Like I want to cuddle with them and share nests with them and -- and -- have kits with them, when I'm older… okay, not kits, because kits are dumb, but -- but you get the idea. It's more of a romantic thing. A, uh, sensual thing.

She gagged to herself, finding the mere notion to be both entrancing and wrong. She felt disgusted with herself. This wasn't supposed to be -- StarClan would have wanted her to see them as Clanbound sisters, as comrades, not as potential mates.

-Is it -- it feels like I shouldn't say this. I don't even know if this is true. Tell me I'm stupid. Tell me this is all wrong. Please, just… tell me what to do. I don't know if I'm exaggerating. What if I'm wrong, and I'm going crazy?  
-You're not wrong, Ravenpaw soothed. I was going to say the same thing.

Amberpaw stopped dead. Something in her was telling her it was all wrong. Was she exaggerating? She didn't know if she was telling the truth. What if she was mistaken? She would destroy her own sense of reality, by believing lies. And she would feel crazier than ever. But could she really like mollies? The notion felt too wide to make any concrete sense. She did like some mollies -- there were some she would not mind taking as her mate, and living with -- but she didn't like every molly in the four Clans. She had standards. And toms -- she supposed toms were nice. As a kit, she had often played a game of Family with her friends, and she had taken tomkits as her "mates", but she recalled never really being into that notion. She had never stated that she had wanted to play with the mollykits, though, and so saying she only liked mollies felt wrong. And wasn't she supposed to like toms instead?

But here she was, in front of her brother, telling him everything. And he was confessing, too. This had to be the best, yet most confusing day of her life.

-I -- I can't stop thinking about Graystar, he murmured.

The leader? He's so old, he's all gray -- Ravenpaw's a kit! A small little kit. And with that idea in mind, she couldn't help but get a bit protective.

-Graystar?? No! He's so old, he's like our ancestor -- sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, she meowed softly after noticing Ravenpaw's expression.

But he seemed more calm than she had ever seen him; instead of the nervous self-soothing purr he usually let out, he was actually making a happy purr.

-You didn't even -- you said he was old, not that he was a tom. That's -- that's so great!

Amberpaw shifted her weight on her paws, embarrassed.

-Well, I mean. Yeah. I guess I did.  
-I thought you'd say I was a mouse-brain, he muttered. Or that I should take a molly as a mate instead. I mean, I can't have a mate. I guess this is all useless. Why am I even asking? What does it matter? Well, that's a load off my mind. Thanks, little sister.

Amberpaw sat down next to him.

-I wouldn't say that you should take a molly, she protested in a bit of kitlike indignation at the thought of ever hurting her brother like that. Mouse-brain.  
-See, you said it. I knew you weren't to be trusted, you foolish warrior.  
-Shut up, plant-head.  
-Alright, I yield. But why are you telling me this now?  
-Because… because I thought… I don't know.  
-Is there someone? he teased, shimmering his tail on her face. Are you in love? Tell meeee ~

She sneezed.

-Stop it, she purred, swatting his tail off her eyes.  
-Not until you tell mee ~  
-She's not -- she's not like, single. I can't talk about her. C'mon, it'd be wrong.  
-Not even a little clueeee?

Amberpaw sighed. It's like we switched personalities. I'll have to apologize for prying too much later. I really am irritating. Wow.

-Noo, she protested.  
-Ah, come on, we're littermates! You have to tell me a little something! Ravenpaw protested.  
-Alright, she's cream-colored, that's all I'm going to say, Amberpaw meowed decisively.  
-Coldyarrow, Ravenpaw deadpanned immediately.

Amberpaw choked on her own saliva.

-I didn't even tell you anything -- how did you know? she exclaimed, swatting him with a paw. That's not fair. Cheater!

Ravenpaw looked at her in surprise, then started roaring with laughter. Amberpaw soon followed.

-What? No, I was just -- I was just guessing!!

She groaned dramatically and threw her head back.

-Noo, she protested, trying to look angry. My only love, destroyed like that. By my own brother. How could you betray me.

He pushed her off as she jokingly tried to swat him.

-Ooof, get off, he protested. Ouch.

She got off him, but swatted him one last time just to have the last laugh. He huffed in annoyance, and she decided to calm down. Right. I'm being annoying. Woops. She purred as an apology and he eventually felt better.

-Are you serious, there's only one cream cat in the Clan, Ravenpaw stated.

Amberpaw huffed.

-Fine, fine. You're right. But how did you know you didn't like mollies?

Ravenpaw shuffled anxiously.

-What is there to explain, he muttered. Toms are great, they're lovely. How did you know?  
-I don't, she retorted in frustration. I don't even know. It's why I wanted to ask. It's all a blur. I don't -- I shouldn't like mollies. It's not supposed to exist, I'm not supposed to like them. I'm not supposed to be one of those cats that like mollies, it's not what I've been told. I'm -- I'm unnatural. A freak. I wake up and I wish I'd never felt anything towards her. It's just -- I feel like I'm breaking the laws of nature. Like -- literally. It feels like I'm seeing snow in greenleaf, only I'm the snow. It's not possible, you know?

She sighed.

-I shouldn't even be telling you this. Not that I don't want to talk with you, of course -- I just feel like I should be doing something to… to cure it or something. Which -- would be very rude to you, she concluded guiltily. But -- it just feels wrong. I feel like it's as though I was in love with you, or with a kit. It's just -- not supposed to be this way. I know it's not true, but… if I like toms, then… all of what I felt for her wasn't true? Who am I, then? Is this even real?  
-What about toms? Did you ever feel anything for a tom? Ravenpaw pressed.

Amberpaw shuffled anxiously. Somehow, this question made her uneasy. She felt like running. What was she supposed to answer? Yes? No? Cats talked about the first time they felt the ache in their stomach; the realisation they were finally able to mate. Was this part of it? Was she trying to tell herself she didn't want a tom as a partner, or was she overthinking again?

-What does that mean? How are mollies supposed to feel about toms, anyways? Friendship? Passion? Anger?  
-Anger? echoed Ravenpaw.  
-I don't know. Anger that sometimes they get rude. I don't know, that's not the point -- I'm sorry, this is really putting me on edge.  
-None taken. But what about mollies?  
-What about them? They're perfect. Well, sometimes, I do wish I could mate with a molly and not a tom. They're just… so much better. And prettier. And nicer. And -- am I being weird? Should I stop? Why would I stop -- why are we talking about this?

Amberpaw turned away from her friend, feeling vulnerable; but her brother inserted himself in her peripheral vision and answered cheerfully.

-Because we need to figure you out, and you're worried, and we're on the same side and you're my sister and I love you; and since we're in the same situation and I can't do the same for myself, I'll help you instead. So: mollies. Tell me everything. What do you like about them?

Amberpaw let her fur lie down and let out a faint purr.

-Oh! StarClan, where do I start?

*

-Coldstar? Amberspots murmured from the warmth of their shared nest.  
-Hmm? came the sleepy reply.  
-Do you think… is it too late to…? Still be mates? Is it too late to say we're still mates if we haven't talked in a while?

Coldstar opened her eyes and nuzzled her gently.

-It's never too late.


	18. Blue Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some flashbacks to Amberspots' youth, and a nice, quiet morning with Coldstar afterwards.

"I remember, when I was talking to those two toms at the Gathering, I felt it was wrong they were mates together. I knew I was being rude, and wrong, but a corner of my mind wanted to tell them to stop. Does that mean I don't really like mollies -- that I'm hypocritical? Or crazy? StarClan, I should apologize to them either way."  
"You're going to have your warrior assessment and this is what you're thinking about?"

Amberpaw swatted her friend on the nose.

"C'mon, I'm nervous. It's all I can think about."  
"I know, I'm just teasing", Brownpaw retorted, swatting her back. "But you shouldn't worry so much. The assessment is going to be fine. You were doing so good!"  
"I guess I am, but it's - it's not that important right now. Seriously -- the molly thing."

I'm being rude, she thought instantly.

"I'm sorry for pushing. Let's get back to the subject. What did you say? Uh -- how did your assessment go? I hear there were blackbirds by the Great Sycamore today."  
"Yeah! There were. I caught one", Brownpaw purred proudly. "They were so fast, you wouldn't have believed it. They flew past me at lightning speed, it was amazing. I think I only caught one because there were so many of them. They flew in a group: it wasn't really smart of them, but! It fed the Clan."

Amberpaw purred.

"That's so awesome! You must be so excited to tell everyone… Especially Leafsong", she mused teasingly. "Your handsome Leafsong with his muscles and his wonderful tabby coat…"  
"Stop!" Brownpaw protested.

Amberpaw burst into laughter.

"Aw, c'mon, you like him. When are you going to tell him how you feel? I need grandkits -- I mean, cousins. Wait, we're not -- ugh, whatever. I mean, you need to have kits so I can adopt them."  
"I can't tell him, he's too shy. He doesn't want to take a mate yet. I don't want to make him uncomfortable."  
"Aww, but what about grandkits?" Amberpaw protested with a pout.  
"Your grandkits will have to wait", Brownpaw asserted with a purr.  
"Well, someday."  
"Shut up!"

They stayed in silence, before Brownpaw broke it, her eyes shining bright with love.

"But you know, I really wish I could tell him. He's so handsome. Sometimes I feel like he's not even real. He's so beautiful. And muscular. Look at his legs!" she giggled, nudging her in the direction where Leafsong was heading, a mouse in his jaws. "Look! Isn't he dreamy?" 

Amberpaw just looked at her instead. She didn't feel comfortable checking her Clanmate out. Ironically, I'm checking her out instead. How logical. Wait, except if -- do I --

"Yeah, he's so dreamy", she complimented reflexively. "No wonder you want to take him as a mate. He's very… handsome."

Was this how mollies were supposed to compliments toms? She wouldn't know, but she could still worry. It wasn't like she had to maintain a cover with Brownbelly, but...

"Yeah. I wonder if he'll want kits", Brownpaw mused, turning back to Amberpaw. "Little brown kits with yellow eyes -- I love them already! This would be so awesome!" Brownpaw purred excitedly.

Amberpaw purred a little.

"Why don't you tell him how you feel? You can't become mates unless he knows", she meowed. "C'mon!! I'll be with you the entire time! I won't let you down! And he'll find you so amazing to have talked to him first that he'll be sure to say yes."  
"Wait, right now?" Brownpaw panicked. "Wait, I'm not ready, I need to clean up --"

Amberpaw purred and sat back down.

"Okay, but don't bail on me. It has to happen someday. Can you imagine? Maybe he's in love with you, too, but he's also waiting for you to make the first move, but if you wait too much he'll think you don't like him and he'll be sad and he'll give up."  
"What? No!" Brownpaw exclaimed. "That's awful! Why did you tell me that?! This is so not encouraging. Now I don't want to talk to him."  
"Oh, come on", Amberpaw coaxed, nudging her friend. "You gotta."  
"If it goes wrong, I'm blaming you for my unhappiness in life", she warned, standing up. "Get ready to bring me food and make my bedding, because if he says no, I'm not getting out of the den anytime soon."  
"You got it," Amberpaw said as they padded towards the clearing.

*

"They're so beautiful!" Amberspots cooed proudly.  
"They'll be my last litter, so I want them to be perfect", Brownbelly confided, nudging the little kit affectionately. "They're already wonderful. Whitekit opened her eyes today. She's a promising little hunter, this one. Already searching for prey."  
"They're adorable", Amberspots purred. "What are you going to name them?"

Brownbelly exchanged a loving glance with Leafsong. They were both growing a little bit of gray fur around the muzzle, but whenever they looked at each other, they still seemed to be in love. Wait, does that mean I'm growing gray fur, too? And I'm not even a senior warrior yet!

"Whitekit, of course, and Graykit is the little bundle of fur here", she purred, pointing at the small kit that was wriggling under her paw.  
"They're so adorable! Congratulations!" Amberspots purred, pressing her nose to both her friends' cheeks. "You'll bring them up wonderfully, just like you did Crowface and Mousefoot, and Tinystep. They'll be wonderful cats."  
"Thank you", Leafsong purred. "You did participate a great deal in that."  
"No, no, it was my pleasure. I like having kits around. It makes me feel old -- well, in a good way, of course. Now, I'll leave you two to be. You must be exhausted, Brownbelly", she winced. "Do you need me to fetch you water? Get you some fresh-kill?"  
"No, it's all taken care of. Leafsong's taking good care of me", she purred fondly. "He's been amazing. I'm not missing on anything with him around", she murmured lovingly. 

Amberspots couldn't help but wince a little.

"He's been as amazing as the last times. Sometimes, I wonder what I did for StarClan to lead me to such a wonderful mate. He's so perfect."

Amberspots "aww"ed as gleefully as she could as she took in the sight of the happy couple nuzzling together, their eyes bright as they watched their two adorable kits crawl blindly on the soft moss bed.

"It's been chaos here, but he's so calm and soothing. I don't know how he does it. Well, it's not as tiring as our first litter, so that could explain it. These two were as energetic as rabbits. But still -- he's amazing."  
"Someone's at the entrance. I think it's Crowface and Mousefoot", Leafsong announced. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But you'll come back soon, I hope?" he asked.  
"Of course! I wouldn't want to miss out on their first steps!" Amberspots said, stalking out of the den. "I'll get out of your paws. I'm sure Crowface and Mousefoot will be overjoyed to see them."  
"Me too. Thank you for visiting!" Brownbelly called after her.   
"Of course. Anything for my best friend", she purred.

The sun shone in her eyes as Amberspots walked out into the clearing, feeling happy but slightly bittersweet. But she shook off her thoughts as she walked confidently towards the middle of the clearing to get her chores for the day, purring a hello to Coldyarrow as she settled beside her to hear her give out the assessments. Something cold was settling in her belly, but she refused to address it, and nodded with the same enthusiasm as usual as she went to do her tasks of the day.

*

A voice rang in the leader's den, jolting Coldstar and Amberspots awake at once. The sounds of cats crashing against one another sent dirt flying around the den, before a familiar scent washed over to the two very shocked mollies.

"It's urgent, I have to --"  
"Hey, careful -- careful, you'll hurt yourself," soothed Mooneye's voice from the edge of the den. "Let me announce your arrival."  
"It's okay, Mooneye, you can let her in", Coldstar meowed groggily, as she shook the sleep from her eyes with a heavy blink.

Amberspots wanted to curl up and stay asleep, but she felt like she had to listen. Force of habit? Come on, I was only deputy for a moon. I'm a mouse-brain, that's what's going on. But she still settled down to wash herself, mouse-brain or not.

"You didn't have to get up," Coldstar said (because of course she'd notice, she noticed everything). "You can go back to sleep if you want. It's my duty, not yours. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."  
"It's okay," she meowed between licks. "I had to get up anyways to tell Ravenwhisker not to worry."  
"Coldstar!" Brownbelly exclaimed, exploding from the entrance. "This is so strange -- I'm having another litter!"  
"What?"  
"Come in, make yourself at home", Coldstar said soothingly.

Brownbelly sat down and licked her chest nervously.

"I was so confused this morning. I've been sick all week, and when I saw Leafsong about it, he said I smelled like kits. This is the first time this has happened. I don't know what to do, I'm too old to have kits anymore. What should I do with them?"  
"What did Ravenwhisker say?" Coldstar asked.  
"He confirmed it. Oh, what should I do?"  
"You've had kits before, and it went well. I'm sure you'll be great this time, too. Time has given you even more experience with them, and these kits will have everything they need."

Brownbelly sighed, prompting Amberspots to dart to her side to sniff her gingerly.

"You're right. It'll be fine."  
"But -- did Ravenwhisker say anything about the, er, birthing process? Will it be safe to kit in this weather?" Amberspots fretted. "What if it hurts? What if you're too old and stiff to give birth properly? I mean -- he'll have herbs for that. I just -- worry it'll be harder than necessary."  
"Nonsense, he's seen enough births already. I'm not worried about that!" Brownbelly shrugged. "I just don't know if I'll be a good mother. It's been so long since I've kitted. I worry I've lost the hang of it."  
"Oh, Brownbelly", Amberspots winced in sympathy. "You're a wonderful mother. Your kits have always turned out to be amazing cats. You have nothing to worry about."  
"You'll only enjoy it more now that you had a break from all the kitting. And don't forget, the whole Clan will be there to assist you", Coldstar added softly. "Every cat will do their best to make sure your kits are as happy as possible. You have my word."

Brownbelly's eyes shone with relief.

"Thank you, Coldstar. That means so much. Thank you both. I'll go see Ravenwhisker now", she said happily. "I have a hunch they'll be tomkits, but I can never be sure."  
"I say they'll be mollykits, and you owe me a chaffinch if they're toms", Coldstar proposed, her eyes gleaming with humour.

Sometimes, Amberspots would forget how they all used to be friends back in the day, but in moments like these -- important moments -- it would all come back. And how lovely a surprise it was.

"A tomkit and a mollykit", Amberspots added with a purr, glancing at Coldstar in amusement. "Make that two chaffinches."  
"You're on. And you're going to lose!"  
"No, we won't!" Amberspots called after her.  
"We're the best!" added Coldstar after her. "You can't beat us!"  
"No you won't!" came Brownbelly's purr from outside, then her pawsteps faltered and they were left in silence again.

Amberspots purred, and Coldstar turned towards her. They shared a nuzzle under the morning sun. For one second, everything was fine, and she could forget everything that raged inside. Days like these were nice. They didn't always have nice days; sometimes, they had horrible ones. They fought together, like any couple, any friends would. No matter if they were laser and deputy, they still were cats, and cats could be vicious, harmful creatures like any other. Sometimes, she wished she could forget about it, but the memory of their old fighting still came back once in a while. It used to be a bad memory, but now, she only saw two young mollies, both stuck with their own issues, both growing and learning, but still managing to make something out of their shared experiences. That was quite something when you thought about it.

"We haven't changed at all," Amberspots murmured dreamily.  
"Well, I remember you used to have a bit less gray hair," Coldstar shot back with a purr.  
"That's not what I meant," Amberspots protested, but she laughed anyways. "You old mouse."  
"Well, you're right, I suppose," Coldstar purred. "We don't change as much as we'd like to. Although we can certainly try."  
"The Clan changes," Amberspots sighed. "Like the seasons, it's never the same."  
"It certainly does. It's quite a sad thing, too. I do miss my mother sometimes."

Coldstar yawned, then scrambled to her paws.

"Well, I suppose this is how life goes. Now, would you like some fresh-kill?"  
"Please, allow me. I must make myself useful somehow," Amberspots protested. "The fresh-kill pile isn't too far away. I'll fetch you something delicious in the blink of an eye."

Coldstar yawned, then closed her eyes back contentedly.

"Good. I was indeed hoping to sleep more before patrol today."  
"Didn't you sleep well tonight?" Amberspots echoed.  
"I prefer to watch over you when you come here," Coldstar admitted.

Amberspots shot her a surprised look.

"Nonsense, I'm quite capable of getting through on my own! No need to bother yourself."  
"Of course, but I must admit I enjoy knowing you to be safe," the leader murmured. "Seeing you peaceful is a great joy to me."

Amberspots purred and rubbed her muzzle on her friend's cheek.

"Of course," she echoed. "It's quite alright. Now, do say what you'd like me to get for you, and I'll be off. This day's too fine to waste, I'd say."

Coldstar's eyes gleamed.

"Would you go on patrol with me, in that case?" she asked hopefully. "Just you, me, and the forest, like old times."  
"I can't guarantee I'll be able to, but I will certainly try. It would be a good start to the day," Amberspots purred.

Then, she got out of the den, feeling happier than she had this past moon. And perhaps even a little more purposeful than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ravenwhisker will be back in the next chapter, of course!! Right now, he's doing some herb stuff, but you can expect him to check in sooner or later. He takes special care of his sister. She is the only family he has left, after all. That, and she needs all the support she can get, and being the medicine cat, it's his duty to provide care for the cats. Yeah. She's in a bad shape, but she'll be better eventually. Anyways. Enjoy!!


	19. Night of Memories

"You're not enough, you've never been enough. It's time we stopped lying to each other and you tried a little bit harder, because I'm tired of pretending everything's fine and so are you! We need to work through this, or we'll never get anywhere."

"That doesn't make any sense! And since we're sharing, I have something to tell you, too, and it's been too long. Listen, we know you've never loved me. You always had eyes on your friend, and now that she has a mate, you're trying to soothe your hunger with someone who's like her. But it won't ever go away, not until you cry her! And I'm willing to be here for you through that. Is it not enough to ask of you to at least try and love me? Is that too hard?"

Coldstar looked worried, desperate. Her eyes glinted sadly in the moonlight, but Amberspots was angry, and she didn't stop. When else would she have the occasion to talk about the things that upset her? she thought dumbly.

Well, that's what she pretended to feel, anyways, because they were only pretending to fight. They didn't like to fight for real, so they took specific times of the day to dump everything. It worked (kind of), and it made them compartmentalize their ill feelings better. She supposed it was a good thing.

"Well, if that's how it is, then I'd like to share something, too. I remember you never had a tongue for humour. Remember how many times I had to collect myself because you shot back something sharp after I tried to lighten up your face?"

"Oh, and I remember how your emotions always clouded your judgement. You can't plan anything without getting your high on."

"Well, you made me deputy, you should train me."

"How am I to do that if you're always somewhere else? I feel like you're angry all the time. What am I supposed to even do? Is there a good time to tell you about this, or will you just blow up? I can't tell you anything, you'll get hurt and throw a hissyfit over it. I can't talk to you in a calm manner! And you go outside, and you don't listen to me -- am I invisible? Do you not like me? Don't you want us to share our days? How can you not even ask me to help?"

"What are you talking about? I'm spending time with my brother, what else am I to do? He's got nobody else since our mother died, it's been a tough world and I'm living in it, alright? I didn't need anyone else in my face while I grieved!"

"I didn't know that --"

"You should have told me! You should have told me so we'd be better together, but no -- you just had to keep this all to yourself and blow it up on a big day, surprise, this is awful and everything is awful, too."

"Don't you generalize, this isn't about the world and you know it! Don't say that, how is this supposed to help us?"

Sometimes, the pretend-fights got to a point where neither wanted to speak anymore, when they'd reached new heights in viciousness and they needed a break to recover. It's strange to fight with someone who didn't want to hurt you, Amberspots thought. Especially for this sort of thing. It feels so frustrating, and I'm so afraid of hurting her, or of getting hurt, but… it just feels like I'm blowing off over nothing…

Amberspots breathed deeply and sat back down. Coldstar mimicked her, licking her ear with concern in her eyes. After a few licks, Amberspots felt a little better, but mostly, she felt selfish.

"Every time we fight like this, it ends up with you comforting me," she stated. "I feel like I'm taking too much of you. I'm not working for anything, I do things for you but not if they bother me. I don't -- I'm not thinking of you enough. Am I? I mean, maybe I'm just thinking about this whole thing as a bad thing because I'm used to exhausting myself or whatever. Mother used to say that you need to click with a cat to become mates, and that companionship needs to come easily. Perhaps this is what I feel? I just -- it feels like I'm not working hard enough for you -- for us."

Amberspots rolled her head back and licked Coldstar right on the nose.

"I wouldn't want to take you for granted," she added. "You're much too lovely for that."

"That's good, because I wouldn't want to lose you, either. Looks like you're stuck with me."

Amberspots purred playfully.

"There are worse fates."

"Oh? Like what?" Amberspots questioned innocently.

Coldstar purred, her eyes alight with mischief, and Amberspots knew that it was going to be a good day.

*

"Gotta find something… more than two mice for morning's meal… leaves and rocks… the river…"

Amberspots was grabbing a mole when a startled Bluefeather noticed her approaching, and addressed her an embarrassed greeting.

"Hi, Amberspots. Just... checking what I can do with my day."

Amberspots nodded in silence. The young molly seemed worried -- she decided to wait and see if she'd tell her.

"I can't really do much with Fernpaw on the job," she added with a defeated purr. "She's the dream apprentice, isn't she? She does everything right. There isn't much left for me to do, if I want to pick up on what's left to do."

Amberspots felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She wouldn't say it out loud, but she knew what she was talking about. Being replaced was an awful feeling to have.

"Oh, Bluefeather…"

Amberspots beckoned her over with her tail. It wasn't her place to tell her about her own experiences, but maybe she could do something else to cheer her up. There was something Bluefeather could do that no other cat could. (Well, maybe Ravenwhisker could, but he had enough work on his paws as it was. Bluefeather was smart, trained, and young -- and she had nothing else to do, really. Or she would, if Coldstar gave her the day off.)

"Well," she started. "I was looking for someone to treat an illness I have," she murmured. "Maybe you could do me a check-up. I would love to have a medicine cat's opinion on this."

Bluefeather's eyes gleamed with restrained hope.

"What kind of illness?" she asked cautiously.

"Walk with me, I'll tell you everything you need to know."

*

"Amberpaw! Amberpaw -- oh, StarClan, move aside, let me see --"

Ravenpaw was pushing his way through the crowd, his fur fluffed-up in panic. His paws were shaking, but he held up his chin. He was a medicine cat, and he had been trained for this. Amberpaw admired how he managed to keep his cool. She wasn't really paying attention to how the blood was growing cold around her, or how her stomach felt like it was full of ice. It was way more fun to see her brother do fun medicine cat stuff while she laid there.

She thought she felt a little cold, but she didn't really say anything. She knew deep down that it was because of the fight she came back from, and that the injury was very bad, but she didn't really know if she needed to say something about it. Maybe it would fix itself. She wasn't going to ask for bedding unless she knew the cold was a bad sign -- and since nobody had told her to be wary of it, she'd be a warrior and shoulder it. It was quite uncomfortable, but she figured it couldn't be worse than being bitten and clawed at like earlier. That was awful.

"Hey, I did good, didn't I?" she asked with a purr. "I fought them all on my own. I'm a great warrior, aren't I?" she added with a wheeze.

She swallowed painfully. Somehow, she had forgotten about her throat bite. She didn't really know how she could have forgotten about such a thing, but she figured that every injury hurt just as much, so it wasn't like that particular one was really special.

Thinking about the battle brought her a sense of happiness. It was exhilarating to think about how much she'd fought. Her legs had given up only a few seconds before battle stopped. It was amazing to think that she'd been able to withstand so much damage -- and to think about how much she would shoulder next time made her feel so excited she almost wanted to stand up and train right now. At the same time, cold disappointment made her clench her teeth. She'd failed to keep going when her Clan needed her.

"I lost, didn't I? I lost the battle."

"Keep still, I need to apply a poultice," Ravenpaw ordered through clenched teeth, his throat tight as to conceal a wail of anguish.

"You were brilliant," her mentor whispered.

She finally noticed the warm shape of Briarspark settled next to her, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Namely, on making sure she wasn't getting empty praise -- or praise at all. She didn't want to get too caught-up in it, or she would become conceited, which was absolutely unthinkable.

"I didn't protect my Clanmates," she protested. "Whitewhisker got hurt. She was injured. It was bad, she couldn't stand up. I -- I wasn't good enough, I couldn't protect her… Brownpaw's -- where's Brownpaw? She's going to be hurt, I left her all alone on the -- where is she? Oh, StarClan, if something happened to Brownpaw, I'll make sure they --"

"I'm fine," Brownpaw rasped from a few pawsteps away. "I can fight too, we had the same training. It's you we should talk about. What -- what in StarClan's name was that? You -- you jumped on them like it was nothing! You fought right in the middle of their ranks! You're a hero! You're the best!"

"Well -- now, I wouldn't call her a hero," said Amberpaw's mentor sternly. "Amberpaw, you should learn that you don't need to battle every single enemy to come out victorious. The best warriors aren't those who come out half-dead, but those who mind their steps and make thoughtful decisions. Be mindful. A battle isn't a carnage, or a hunt. It's a tactical stand. Remember that."

Amberpaw deflated.

"I just thought I was doing what was best to protect them…. Come on, don't -- don't tell me not to protect them, you're -- you're the one who says we have to serve our Clan -- let me -- I'll show you, I'll stand up and go back to them right now, I'll --"

She tried to rise to her feet, but her legs felt heavy, and she fell back down, defeated.

"Stop moving, I need to treat you!" Ravenpaw hissed in panic over her. "Don't stand up or you'll exacerbate your wound!"

"No, I -- I can stand up," she protested. "I want to stand up, I -- I'm able to, I'm making it," she blurted out. "Look, I can do it, I can DO IT."

"Amberpaw, there's no shame in being defeated," her mentor murmured soothingly. "Just stand down and let the medicine cat treat you."

"NO -- I can do it! Stop telling me -- stop telling me to give up, because I can't -- I'm not going to, okay? I'm not going to! I'm going to stand up and get to them, I'll prove it to you!"

"Please, give her some air," Ravenpaw begged from her side. "I can't treat her like this -- she's too stressed-out. I think you need to go."

Amberpaw saw Brownpaw shuffle away from her, and her senses lit up in panic.

"No, don't -- they need to know, they need to see I'm doing it --"

"I'm her mentor, I have to be there to supervise how she's doing," Briarspark hissed with a challenging glare at the medicine cat. "I'm not going anywhere. You can try and ask the leader to make me move, but I'm not standing up from this spot until I know she's making it."

"Briarspark, please, walk with me. I don't mean to order you around, but Amberpaw needs some air, and I know you want to help, but the best help you can give her for now is to let Ravenpaw work," the medicine cat piped in. "What they need is some peace."

He paused near his apprentice and gazed critically at his work, before nodding approvingly at him.

"You're doing great so far," the medicine cat promised him. "Just remember not to mix up the leaves and she'll have a good, painless sleep tonight. You'll do good."

Briarspark glared at the medicine cat, but soon, her anger turned to worry.

"Oh, StarClan -- I know Ravenpaw means well and is doing his very best, but… are you sure this is safe? Oh -- he still mixes herbs up… You sure I should go with you -- and leave him without supervision?"

"Very sure. Come on," he coaxed. "I'm sure you're exhausted after such a battle. Let's get you some fresh-kill and you can tell me all about it."

Briarspark set a last horrified gaze to her apprentice before reluctantly padding away.

"You're sure she's going to be fine? She's going to live?" Amberpaw heard her say throughout the clearing. She didn't hear the reply, but she did hear Ravenpaw letting out a faint wail.

"I'm going to screw this up," her brother groaned. "StarClan, I'm going to screw this up, and you're going to die forever, and I --"

"That's usually what happens when a cat dies," Amberpaw teased.

"I -- shut up, Amberpaw, that's not helping, I'm -- I'm going to explode, I -- this sucks. Oh, StarClan, this sucks. Oh, I'm going to screw this up forever, I'll -- oh, stars. Oh, stars."

"Hey -- this isn't an exam, this is real life, you're going to be fine," Amberpaw tried.

"What?? That's what worries me!" Ravenpaw shot back. "You could die, and I could lose my only sister if I'm mouse-brained enough to mess up something!"

"Just -- just set a poultice on my leg!"

"Don't tell me what to do, I'm supposed to be fine --"

"Do something, come on, I'm -- I'm dying here, you have to --"

"Don't say that!" Ravenpaw screeched. "StarClan, don't -- don't -- I'm -- I'm worried enough you're going to die here, I don't need the reminder! Just -- just be here and -- oh, stars. Okay, I -- what leg again?"

"The -- the leg -- the back leg with the wound, I --"

She wiggled one of her back legs, and something made her laugh. Maybe she was really dying.

"I can't feel anything in this, it's groovy. Hey, try it. It's fun."

Ravenpaw sniffed her wound gingerly, then looked back at his herbs.

"I -- okay, uh. Poultice. Find the right poultice. Apply it. Put it on the wound…"

He mixed up some pale herbs, and because she was somehow bored, Amberpaw sniffed them. She recognized them -- somehow, it seemed like her mind worked better when it was overstimulated with feelings, and since she had enough stimuli to fill-up a lake, she found she could think clearly.

"Hey -- these herbs are good for fever, too, right? Cough medicine -- which one was it?"

"Either, they -- they work for infection. They, uh -- well, they sort of remove the pus from your nostrils, and you can uh, sleep better. Here -- eat this. Tell me what you think about this."

He gave her a few of the herbs, and she munched them. They tasted earthy, but there was a small bit of flavor in them, too.

"Uh -- they taste like dirt? I don't know -- is this what I'm supposed to say?"

"Yeah, uh -- they're used to reduce blood flow and make you calmer. It also helps with, uh, treating infection."

"Wait -- you sneaky furball, did you just -- I thought you were showing me the ropes."

"What, I was treating you! What else --"

"Well, I knew you had something in mind," Amberpaw interrupted. "I just didn't think if was that."

"Warriors are dumb," Ravenpaw teased.

"Medicine cats are, too."

"Well, this medicine cat is going to be cross with you if you don't stop moving. Now, stay still. Let me treat you!"

*

"And it's just so frustrating. I feel like I'm not doing enough, but I can't offer anything, because -- well, I'm not a good apprentice enough apprentice, even if Ravenwhisker did need someone to take over his duties. I left Ravenwhisker on his own. I abandoned my duties -- I abandoned the Clan. When Kindberry caught whitecough, I wasn't there. When she died, I wasn't in the den with her. And -- I wasn't there for Staggerlily when she made her way to StarClan. I need to prove myself. I have to atone. I left them down -- I did something unforgivable. I must repair what I have done -- please, Coldstar. I can't sleep at night anymore."

Bluefeather's eyes were passionnate, gleaming with honesty; but Amberspots knew that Coldstar was looking at the bags under her eyes, and at the way her mouth curled in exhaustion with every word. She wasn't fit for a mission. She looked like she mostly needed to rest. Amberspots honestly felt tired just by looking at the young molly, and hoped her friend would tell her to rest. She looked like she'd just come back from a battle with a fox. But, of course, Coldstar wouldn't think something like that. She was much smarter and tactical -- that was why she was such a great leader.

"Would it bring you peace to explore the land for new herbs?" Coldstar eventually enquired.

"Yes -- thank you, Coldstar, I -- I've been feeling like I can't learn anything for so long. I thought -- I thought I would never have the chance to learn again. Thank you, so much."

"Which warrior will you bring by your side?" Mooneye asked, momentarily looking up from her sparrow to give Bluefeather a calculating glance, her pale eyes satisfied.

"Tigerstorm," Bluefeather answered surprisingly fast. "And, uh, Beavertail, too, if he wants to come with. He won't go anywhere without her, so -- I guess he has to come if she does."

Mooneye exchanged a glance with the leader.

"I thought you two weren't speaking anymore. I mean -- just don't murder one of our most skilled warriors, we're kind of in a shortage."

Amberspots swallowed a meowl of indignation at this tasteless remark, but Bluefeather only purred.

"I'll try not to make a mess. Shall I go fetch them now?"

"Please, do," Coldstar nodded. "We're quite glad you found something to your liking. I hope you find the answers you look for, dear Bluefeather, and that you come back to us in one piece."

"Do bring us back some grandchildren," Amberspots added with a purr.

Bluefeather snarled, her eyes determined.

"The only grandchildren I'm going to bring back are the sons of the discoveries I make. Thank you, Coldstar. Mooneye."

She dipped her head, then walked out into the clearing. She didn't say goodbye to me, Amberspots thought a little selfishly. Well -- maybe not 'selfishly', but it certainly did feel selfish to think about such things when Bluefeather was having such a good time preparing for her trip. She gave her chest a few licks to cover up her embarrassment and sat back down, refusing to look at the other two mollies. She was being too emotional about this. It wasn't proper.

Then pawsteps rang from the outside and Bluefeather barged in. 

"Wait, Amberspots, I forgot to say goodbye! It's just that I thought… you usually come with me on trips like these, so I… well, I suppose this time isn't… really like the others."  
"I'm happy you came to say goodbye," Amberspots purred. "Remember to follow the warrior code, always. And do bring us some good herbs in a few moons. I'm very proud of you for following your dreams, little one."

Bluefeather rubbed her nose on Amberspots' cheek, her eyes glowing with emotion, before walking back outside. The old molly stared after her for a few moments, overcome with strange, bittersweet feelings. She's really growing up. She's becoming independent. I just hope she won't grow away from us. When she comes back, will it be the same, or will she have forgotten us?... Will she talk to me like to a stranger?... I'm so old already, next time she comes by, she probably will only see an elder, and not an old friend.

Suddenly, Amberspots felt more depressed than excited. A part of her mind wanted to cancel the trip, but another one knew it was good for Bluefeather to feel useful and smart again. As though her warrior training was suddenly waking up, she swallowed the bile in her throat and stood up curtly.

"I'm sorry, but I must go. I think Ravenwhisker will be waiting for me."

"Of course," Coldstar nodded.

They exchanged a nose-rub before Amberspots walked out of the den, leaving the leader and the deputy alone to talk about the latest developments. She felt a cold ache in her stomach that she didn't know would leave soon. She didn't know what to think anymore. Somehow, she had been hoping -- or at least, expecting -- her brother to care for her like a patient. She'd thought he would want to know where she was, and fret over her if she hurt herself. But she'd just realized that maybe he thought that she was a grown-up cat, and she could take care of herself. Maybe he thought that she didn't need him watching over her -- because, after all, he wasn't her mother.

She had thought about this a few times. He was the medicine cat , but none of his duties revolved around following her all day and making sure she was doing good. He was there for routine checkups, and for specific problems she might have, but the rest of the time, he did other things.

Thinking about this made her skin crawl. She felt like she had swallowed something bitter -- her fur felt gross and her skin was boiling. Was this shame? Was this it?

Then she bumped into a familiar black pelt and her senses came back to her.

"Ravenwhisker!" she exclaimed.

She realized she didn't really want to see him anymore. Maybe later -- but all she wanted to do right now was to curl on a bed of moss and digest her gross feelings, all by herself. Or maybe she would stare at the ceiling for a while. Maybe she was exaggerating, but she really did hate feeling like this.

And suddenly she had forgotten why she didn't want to see him -- she'd forgotten what her pain was. Feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she addressed him a small, tentative meowl of greeting. I don't know if I should be friendly I don't want to betray whatever part of e wasn't keen on talking. But -- I can't just act on impulse. I want to be nice to my brother.

She felt scared upon realizing how quickly her memory had faded, but decided that it was normal. Cats forgot things all the time.

"Amberspots!" Ravenwhisker hissed.

In a frantic mess of fur and noses, he sniffed her all over.

"Where were you? I thought you were lost -- gone in the forest, or -- or maybe gone to fight another ShadowClan patrol. Okay, this last one doesn't make sense, but -- you could have done it, I know you've been a bit more aggressive these days so anything is possible."

"What -- agressive?" Amberspots protested, shuffling out of his reach. "I'm have you know I'm a warrior of ThunderClan, and I follow the warrior code -- that stipulates mercy and tactics over mindless killing."

"I know, I know -- but where were you? As far as I know, you could have been anywhere, we needed to search for --"

Suddenly, the mention of a battle sent her heart racing through her throat, prompting her to be hunched over, shivering, feeling something cold settle over her. Then she barged out the contents of her stomach, and the rest was a blur.


	20. AN INFORMATION SNIPPET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an actual chapter; a crucial information snippet on the actual living conditions of elderly people in my home country.

Okay, so I work at a shelter; it's a very small one, though, so it's got low budget and not much media information. It's an obscure place in a random part of town where there are about five kids maximum on the street after school ends, and even when it's vacation time, the streets are pretty silent and nobody talks. So, quiet place, not much social life going on outside. It's pretty much the same inside the building, honestly; the people are all sitting there in their rocking chairs, not talking to each other, not really moving or doing anything. Sometimes, it's even more noisy than outside -- and that's a big thing, because the only noise is the ventilation system and it's pretty quiet, too. So, yeah. Very inactive location, and a fitting inactive shelter. In that regard, it's very unlike Clan life, where the camp is many times described as a hive, buzzing with energy, and the elders' den is in contrast a place of peace and relaxation.

So, obviously, you're thinking, "There isn't many people there, of course they don't have much to do!". And that's quite true; there are about fifteen residents there as I post this, and the full potential is 25 people, plus three bathrooms and two small living rooms. That's excluding the staff's quarters; it takes up most of the underground space, and there are a few storage areas here and there. But the real deal is really the living room, because that's where the people sit and watch television. And since they're sitting there most of the day, it's fine to say that's the life of the shelter.

There is also a shortage of people working in them as of 2019. Nobody really goes to work in a shelter, a bit like the only cats regularly going to see the elders are apprentices that are forced to, and the medicine cat a few times a moon. I'd say the way cats see going to the elders' is pretty representative of how it works here: they're forgotten. People like to assume that they're doing good so they don't have to feel bad. "They're taking a break", or "it's better for them to go in those places", are both wildly common opinions in the public idea of what it's like to live in a shelter, but let me tell you: it sucks.

A real-life elder's residence is quiet, just like a Clan one. People sit in front of the television, stay in their rooms, or simply watch the hours pass. They rarely talk together, and exchange single words to ask questions about something that happens. My guess is that they are bored: the biggest activity of the day is to decide where to sit in the living room. The only chatting they do is at mealtime

There are very few people working in those places, which is disturbingly similar to the way Clan cats despise taking care of their elders, and do so begrudgingly. Workers act like apprentices being punished and rejoice when their shift is over. I'd say the only difference is that apprentices don't get mad when elders soil their bedding, unlike workers. It's needless to say that there are very few people that decide to work in their local shelter, and even less that know where said shelter would be. For the 15-ish used chambers in the shelter I work at, there are at best two workers on the floor -- and to say that is an exaggeration. To have two workers on board is amazing news, and to have three is a miracle. I've never seen more than three employees on floor at the same time, and that is including me. There are so few people that are willing to work for the poor salary and depressing situation that even bad or disrespectful workers are kept in.

I can't talk for all of them, but in the one I know, the ambiance is quite depressing. To say people are happy there would be a lie. And they're lonely. They get no visitors except for their immediate family, but -- old coworkers, brothers, sisters? Only children visit regularly. When a new face appears, they become ecstatic, and suddenly, the room is full of life. If you left a good enough impression, they might even keep talking after you leave, and you may hear them laugh together for a little while, but inevitably, the sound dies and the silence comes back.

From what I hear, old people don't share legends or stuff like that. Honestly, I really don't know where that comes from, but it might just be that I haven't met enough older people to know yet. As of now, I've been in a few conversations, and we've talked about my new haircut, where I go to school, the noise that annoys them at night, and the quality of the food. Sometimes, when they feel friendly, they'll tell me about their childhood, and reminisce about things they used to like. One woman told me she loved seeing, and she would sew dresses. She made her own wedding dress, she said, and her eyes lit up like the stars. She looked very happy for a while, which made me reflect on the fact that she didn't do it anymore. I asked if it made her sad that she didn't see anymore, to which she said she was too old.

Another thing I noticed is how many of the people I work with don't want to try new activities often. When I ask them about drawing, or writing, they tell me: "no, I'm not good at it", or "I'm not good enough", and refuse to try, and if I convince them and they try, they often stop after a few missed shots and tell me in this resigned voice that it's no use, they're not good at it, and go sit back down. But they look happier afterwards, and look at me in hopes that I'll talk to them. I don't, sadly, because I'm really shy about those things, but I'm sure I should, and it would make them happy. Simply talking to them makes their lives better.

About that, there is a very grave issue I must talk about here. The issue of the services they are given. The people caring for their needs is often very disrespectful of them, and their needs. I've seen more times than I can count an older person being yelled at by an employee. People with Alzheimer's confused at where they are; touchy-feely people with no boundaries trying to tell you something but not being able to talk; disabled people simply talking -- all of those people get regularly yelled at, or get shoved off, or growled at to go away, or to stop talking, or to walk faster. The truth is that the formation we get isn't very helpful as to the psychological aspect of the work. They don't learn how to comfort someone in crisis, or help someone to their meal. They do the physical work, but the mental one isn't theirs. But there are no psychologists that are assigned to the shelters, only CSLCs going once a week to give the people a bath. So I've seen many things that are linked to the workforce's negligence or good-natured lack of expertise, such as addressing people like children (using a coo-coo voice, using words like "sweetie" or "honey", telling people they're "your little girl"), ordering them around (which can perhaps be a good thing, or a normal thing, but in context, it sounds like infantilization, which means treating people like children in a demeaning or hurtful way). Some worst examples are to deprive someone of dinner because they didn't come on time (dinnertime is also the time when the people get their medicine, making this actions a cruel and possibly very harmful thing to the client), screaming at clients to go away or obey (such as yelling at a confused client who can't remember where you asked them to go and who go back to you in confusion, or losing patience at people for peeing their pants). I also saw a worker complain loudly and very rudely about "the awful stench" of someone's pants, and comment on how many times this has happened (right in front of the patient). And I think it's obvious that patients with dementia are treated like the spawn of Satan and looked at in horror or in disgust, and shooed away like they have something contagious. Even workers yell at them that they've "gotten enough of their yammering" and address them in a perpetual irritated way. The point of this was to highlight the differences and similarities between Clan life and actual shelters, but there was also another point: inform people. Bottom line is simple: be nice to your elders.


End file.
